Star Fox Odium
by Drake263
Summary: Growing uprisings. An alien empire. Darkness gathering on the edges of Lylat. A vixen searching for her past. In the middle of it all – Star Fox, once more in the wrong place at the wrong time. Odium rises and once again, it falls to Fox and his companions to save the day..
1. Omens

**Disclaimer**

_Star Fox and associated characters are property of Nintendo. In addition, a major race is heavily based on the work of Arinn Dembo for the title 'Sword of the Stars' – SotS and associated characters are copyright Kerberos Studios._

_The following work of fiction incorporates themes of action with a dash of horror, romance and minor fantasy elements. (Considering that the plotline for Star Fox Adventures involved Fox using the magic staff of a telepathic vixen to hunt down ancient spirits and arcane artifacts, I would say we're well within norms for the series). A few original characters turn up as well, most of them minor roles. The main focus of the fiction will, naturally, be on already-established characters. I have done my best to remain faithful to the characters, but in the case of less-established ones I have had to try and extrapolate with my own spin on them._

_The timeline for the work begins an undetermined, but fairly short, amount of time after Star Fox Assault – as I have not played Star Fox Command, I am ignoring the canon for that particular game. If it makes more sense, consider this an AU taking place before the Anglar Invasion would have happened._

_Lastly, warnings. This work incorporates not-heavily-graphic violence, the occasional rude word, mildly adult and possibly disturbing (that is two separate warnings, for the record) themes; what it will _not_ contain are excessive swearing, intense violence, or graphic descriptions of gore, torture, violence or sexual relations. Physical intimacy may be hinted at some points, but anything that may or may not happen behind closed doors will not be described in any detail. If you are the persuasion who gets upset about the idea of two video game characters having a (hopefully) healthy, happy, productive, equal relationship of the romantic persuasion... Tough luck._

_Reader feedback and _constructive_ criticism is very much appreciated. Like it, hate it, have suggestions or questions, toss me a feedback – good stories thrive on that. I hope to make this one._

_That said, sit back, get a good position.. and enjoy the ride._

* * *

_**Star Fox – Odium**_

_Growing uprisings. An alien empire. Darkness gathering on the edges of Lylat. A vixen searching for her past. In the middle of it all – Star Fox, once more in the wrong place at the wrong time. Odium rises and once again, it falls to Fox and his companions to save the day.._

_**Chapter 1 – Omens**_

* * *

She knew it was just a dream.. knew it like only one who dipped into the thoughts and memories of others with a touch could. In the real world, her body lay safely in a steaming bathtub, soaking up the relaxing heat into her worn muscles.

In her dreamscape, Krystal walked the paths of Cerinia.

She'd been so little when she'd left the world of her birth, barely more than a child – she remembered so very little. Still, that didn't keep her sleeping mind from conjuring up blurred phantoms, half-forgotten fractions and impressions. Leaves rustled underneath her sandals, wind whispering through the branches of the grove her path was winding through. Off in the distance, a warbled bird's cry sounded. To her right, she caught a flicker of motion and paused to watch as a blurred figure stepped into view through the trees, kneeling to pick through a patch of wildflowers. A childhood friend? A relative? The details were too fuzzy, too indistinct to pick out. Shaking her head, Krystal walked on past it, bits and pieces of a hummed, half-forgotten melody drifting after her.

Leaves turned into moist planks under her paws, a small bridge crossing a babbling, splashing brook below. Flowering vines wound themselves around the woodwork of the railing, a blurry lantern of some sort dangling above her head from a hook, swaying and creaking softly in the wind. Little blots of bright color flickered and danced around it – fireflies, butterflies, flower petals? Impossible to tell. Somewhere below, a fish splashed the surface of the brook.

In the real world, she had little idea where the place was – only that she'd passed it enough times in her childhood to have it make an impression. It'd come up in different places in her dreams. One thing alone was sure - she knew where the path would lead to.. and like so many times before, she paused, feeling a strange sense of.. reluctance, of trepidation. Perhaps she should turn back..?

Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile softly and shake her head. She was a telepath, after all, or that's what her new friends called her.. no-one could lie to her. Least of all herself. She'd never turned back before.. and wouldn't, now, either. For all she knew, the dream-path would take her there no matter the direction she took.

It'd been spring when she'd passed the grove, but by the time she rounded a familiar-looking curve in the path, she found her paws sinking ankle-deep in freshly fallen snow. Stars twinkled overhead, so bright and clear in the winter night sky. A winding trail had been freshly tramped into the snowdrifts, leading up through a small yard up to a flight of wooden stairs. There was a house, or a memory of one.. blurred, indistinct, like everything else. Glittering icicles reached down from the edge of the snow-covered roof, and on the porch, rows of what looked like crystal lanterns twinkled and shone, casting a warm light.. and outlining the two figures standing in front of the house.

Krystal felt a strange block in her throat as she watched them – again, the details eluded her, like seeing them through a thick cloud of mist, stealing away the specifics, her memory blurred. Still, what she saw.. One of them was slender and graceful, clad in a dress of some sort, the other more sturdily built, more masculine. Sharply pointed vulpine ears perked up playfully, a flash of a smile here, the wag of a long, richly furred tail there. As she watched, the male caught the female in a brief embrace, muzzles dipping together in a soft nuzzle before they separated again.. and turned to face her. Both were tall, so very tall.. but then again, she'd been so small when the memory had taken.

"Mother," Krystal whispered, feeling tears of longing roll down her muzzle, "Father.." Her paws took her towards them without her even willing them to - though she offered no resistance, either. Two sets of phantom arms caught her in a gentle, warm embrace, their scents filling her muzzle – the one thing she remembered clearly, a faint masculine musk, a dry whiff like that of warm sand, the herb-mixed, feminine fragrance of her mother.. the smell of family, of the _home_ she'd lost.

_Did you love me?,_ she wanted to ask, _Why did you leave me? Did you look for me? _She knew from experience that she wouldn't get an answer from them, that trying to force the memory would just chase away the dream – and push her away from what little she had left of her family. No amount of meditation or concentration would bring back the details, let her see the faces of her parents – she'd have to wait until the next time her dreams brought her here.

"I can't even.. remember your names," she choked, burying her muzzle in the memory of warm fur, letting it soak up her tears. "I'm so sorry.." Half-remembered feelings of _warmth _and _safety_ and _love_ washed back at her and she quieted down, basking in it. Had they shared her gifts, she wondered, or was that 'merely' the bond between parents and child?

She didn't want it to end, but at the same time, a treacherous part of herself shied away, trying to back away from the source of her turmoil. She could've _screamed_ when warm fur melted away, that scent lasting for a heartbeat more before fading, too.

"I'll find you," she promised - eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the dream to end..

Instead, she felt cool rain replace that warm fur, the snow underneath her paws hardening into smooth, age-old stone. A distant rumble of thunder vibrated in her ears, the scents of rain and the bitter tang of ozone filling her nose. She opened her eyes.. and found herself standing in her memory of the Krazoa Temple.

This was new. A much more recent memory, one made by the mind an adult vixen, the ancient fortress-temple was sharp in her mind's eye, intricate patterns decorating the smooth, creamy stone. Rain hammered into the flagstones she stood upon, soaking into her fur, a flash of lightning overhead followed by a deep bass rumble of thunder that made her bones vibrate with it. A winding set of ancient stairs lead high, high up towards the pinnacle of the temple. Nearby, one of the octopus-like guardians of the temple floated past, its simple thoughts focused on an errand only it knew of, claw-tipped tentacles writhing – Krystal hadn't wanted to peer deeper into its mind on her first visit here in the real world, its quiet thought-chatter alien and disorienting even from a distance. Instead, she ignored it and had the favor repaid as she started her climb.

She'd come here for answers, she remembered, the stories and legends of the place marking it as a place of power.. a psychic amplifier, of sorts, letting one with the gift cast their mind's eye over vast distances, even into other worlds. She'd thought to use the place, to tap into that well of knowledge, to find the truth.. but instead, she'd found.. Memories of being _trapped_ and _helpless_ hit her, impressions of being drained of her will and life, a fly caught in amber, making her shudder, the temple blurring around her before she forced herself back into focus. Instead, she'd found a great evil.. but also..

Warmth flooded her at the memory of a warm hand catching hers, stopping her fall, and looking up to see a set of green eyes. A smile washed over her muzzle when she remembered the thoughts had hit her – so pure, as Fox hadn't had the faintest idea what she was, at the time. She remembered feeling the fire of adrenaline pounding through his veins, the frenzied beat of his heart, instinct-fueled action and fright melting away, _help her_-_catch her_ turning into a victorious _Got her!_.. followed a breath later by a heartfelt, awed _Beautiful_ that still made her blush.

Shaking away the (this time pleasant) memories, she was still smiling when she reached the top of the temple. Underneath herself, she could hear a faint energetic hum, the ancient machinery of the temple – half arcane, half clockwork, incomprehensible by whole– working like it had for millennia before she'd reached the place. The focus crystal in the center of the temple peak glittered as it spun quietly in its spot – empty, thankfully. She wasn't sure if she could've taken the sight of herself caught and pinned in the thing.

Nevertheless, she gave the thing a wide berth as she padded past it, and towards the platform at the opposite end of the peak – where the massive head of the Krazoa statue stared at her, silent, inscrutable. In the real world, it'd been perverted towards the cause of a madman who refused to stay dead, the temple's peak now bereft of its guardian – the true sculpture reduced to little more than shrapnel in Sauria's orbit – but here, in her dream, it was perfect, as if freshly carved. Those sightless eyes somehow peering into her soul, promising her knowledge and power _– No difference between the two, _it chided her - if she was worthy..

Thunder struck overhead, the deep _boom_ startling her, the blinding flash of lightning that followed a heartbeat later washing the statue's blue-silver colors into a radiant ivory white. The wind caught her fur, tugging at her tail, whistling in her ears – and then her paws left the stones, stolen by the wind like a dry leaf. The rocky crags of the temple mountain whizzed past her, so close she could've reached out a hand to touch them as she fell past – for a moment, numbing terror flashing through her mind – and then the wind somehow _caught on_ to her, pulling at her spread arms and legs, stroking her fur as _falling_ turned into _flying._

Dreaming of flying wasn't something she'd experienced often (half-accidentally dipping into the sleeping mind of a certain mercenary to sample his dreams of previous victories not really counting), but something inside her, some half-buried instinct, had her quickly relishing the sensation. The temple up above grew in size as she climbed towards it, buzzing the Krazoa statue as she flicked past it – for a heartbeat, she could've sworn the ancient, sculpted face wore a look of surprise – and then past it, ancient stone shrinking until the clouds beneath covered it from sight. Nothing but her, the skies, the clouds.. and the storm. She could feel its power all around her, an electric tingle in the air that made her hair and fur try and stand on its end, a might beyond her imagination. She danced in the clouds, dipping and weaving, flashes of lightning sending surges of warmth and power rushing through her. The sense of _speed_ and _height_ and _freedom_ overwhelmed her, thunder stealing away her laughter of delight..

Little by little, she became aware of something in the storm – a vast shape that bent the winds and clouds around it.. or _was_ it the winds and the clouds? Little whispers of conscience turned into distinct patterns buzzing through the back of her head as she flew towards the thing – and then, lightning struck again, and it was like the storm itself had opened its eyes. Winds screamed around her, winds of _thought_ and _feeling_, a mind ancient and powerful, thoughts like storm fronts moving in strange, utterly _alien_ shapes, like no mind she'd touched before – or was it? A nagging sense of _familiarity_ tore at her, instinctive fright wanting her to fly away from the _thing_, even as a thin tendril of her will reached _out_ to it..

_**Where are you?**_

* * *

Sometimes, Fox couldn't sleep.. so he walked the corridors of the _Great Fox_ until feeling like it. The quiet thrumming hum of the great cruiser's systems all around himself, the hiss of the air scrubbers, the occasional gurgle of piping.. the quiet binary chirp-chatter of ROB conferring with the computers.. over the years it'd become the ambient noise of _home_ to him, like a city-dweller might think of the rumble of traffic, or the rustle of wind and birdsong for a country boy. He'd so ingrained the sounds of the ship into himself that sometimes, he felt like he could navigate the corridors with his ears alone – or at least, had felt like it until the Aparoid Wars. Losing the first _Great Fox_ had been like losing his home – not to even mention thinking having lost a dear old friend with it, as well.

Peppy was well and alive, thankfully, and their reward for _services towards the whole benefit of the Lylat System and its people well over and beyond the call of duty_ (General Pepper's words, not his) had nicely funded the design, commission, and construction of the _Great Fox II.. _and left them with a nice collective balance afterwards, too.. but it'd be a long time before the new cruiser would feel like home to Fox. Every now and then he'd find his sleep cycle interrupted by some noise, or lack thereof, that on the old ship would've signified an atmo leak or an air scrubber giving out.. or some other critical failure that could've meant kissing their collective tails goodbye if not fixed soon. Of course, they didn't need to worry about such a thing on the new and shiny _Fox II,_ but that didn't keep his instincts from kicking into high gear. So, he walked the ship, quietly, listening to its sounds and the echoes of his boots on the cool deck plating, letting his brain work out its issues until he thought he could sleep again.

This night, he was walking the crew deck, deep in his thoughts, and luckily for all involved, just happened to be walking past when one of his sensitive ears picked up a short, brief, feminine cry, or the beginnings of one, from a certain door, muffled but clear to him – a cry that turned into a wet hacking gargle and frenzied splashing.

"Krystal!"

Instinct had Fox moving before he even realized it – slamming his palm into the pressure reader beside the door. The thing had the gall to chirp a negative at him before accepting his captain's override, hydraulics whooshing as the reinforced door slid aside. Fox stumbled into the room at a half-run, eyes flicking over the place – for an official member of the team, a little part of him noted, Krystal had little personal effects on view – before dashing to the open door of the vixen's personal bathroom.

In any other situation, the vixen would've probably given him an elbow to his side – or a knowing smile, depending on their mood and company – for the thoughts like those that would've flicked through his head at the sight of the cerulean female lying in her bathtub, fur soaked to her skin. Right now, though, that was the furthest thing from his brain, watching her convulse, hacking water out of her lungs, splashing in the tub and trying to get her muscles under control. He didn't even need to think about it working on pure instinct, catching a towel off the rack next to the door and tossing it over her with one hand while bodily hauling her out of the tub with the other. Out of the water, the struggle of her graceful limbs quieted down, soon turning into a shiver.

"..What happened?" She was freezing cold, he realized, soaked in cold water. Wrapping his arms around her by instinct, he held her close in his lap – and was rewarded by the feel of her curling up against his chest, clearly taking comfort from the warmth his body provided. Little by little, the shakes were subsiding, the wracking coughs stopping as she emptied what must've been a third of the tub's worth of water out of her system. Sometimes, Fox wished he had her powers of the mind – that he could touch her, look into her eyes, and _know_ what she was thinking and feeling. This, seeing the fright in her wide-open, emerald eyes as she craned her head up to look at him, wasn't one of those moments.

"Something.. _touched me," _Krystal gasped out, shuddering at the memory, her hand clutching his arm like a lifeline. "Fox.. there's.. there's something coming.."

* * *

Dawn was coming, and the _Wayfarer_ was humming along like a kitten, getting ready to go. Karen Collins, commander of the explorator vessel, could feel the vibrations from the little ship's engines and fusion plant hum all the way through the deckplates and up her legs, through her spine and into her brain, where it translated into the usual, energetic, almost giddy sensation that made the collie's rich, floofy tail wag behind her. Another world, soon behind her. Hundreds more to see! Around her, the bridge crew was busy doing their final check-ups – most of them too busy to comment of their Captain's good spirits, save for a few smiles that everyone could share.

"_Bridge, Patris. You there, M'am?"_

Blue eyes snapped open at the crackly interruption, one of the collie's hands reaching up to touch across the comlink wrapped around her right ear. "Patris, Bridge. What's going on?"

"_There's someone here wanting to see you. m'am. One of the natives." _There was a hesitant pause. _"You might want to get down here."_

A native? The native population – vulpine offshoots – hadn't really been interested in coming anywhere near the _Wayfarer_, despite their promises of friendliness. In the end, the explorers had had to take to using one of the rovers to get to the nearby village and back – and it was a good three hours of a walk. Anyone who came up here from the village, alone – well, they had to be determined for _some_ reason. "I'll be right there, Patris."

Five minutes later, Karen slipped her way past Patris – the tiger's striped tail twitching as she passed him, green eyes fixed on the figure standing in front of the _Wayfarer'_s gaping cargo ramp. She could tell that something had the marine.. _twitchy,_ for lack of a better expression – and for a good reason, once she got a good eye on their mysterious visitor.

Tall, was her first impression, tall and damn broadly built for a fox – if she didn't know better she would've guessed at a bit of wolf blood in him. Strong muscles shifting under sturdy traveling clothes, a heavy-looking satchel tossed over his back.. and bright, inquisitive eyes glancing around himself, taking in the sights. There was no fear whatsoever of the massive _Wayfarer,_ only curiosity, despite the constant rumble-hiss of the idling thrusters on both sides of the cargo ramp, its hot, ozone-scented breath tugging at fur and clothes. As she stepped up, those eyes turned to look at her – flicking up and down her body once before focusing on her face. And not in the usual way, either – most of the natives seemed to think it odd that a woman would be in charge of their little expedition. This one—he didn't look at her like a piece of meat, or an oddity. He _scanned_ her, weighed her – she'd seen that look before, usually on a battle-hardened Marine. Threat, or no threat?

_No threat_, she could see the impression as those eyes softened – only when she relaxed a little (as did the tiger beside her), did she realize she'd tensed up. Meanwhile, the todd's eyes locked with hers, a searching look in them – golden eyes, she realized, supporting her hunch about mixed blood. That particular shade of striking, near-reflective gold was more common with wolves..

Black-tipped fingers rose, pressing against one another at level with a toned, leather-clad chest. White-tipped muzzle opened, sharp teeth flashing. He had a deep voice, coupled with an interesting accent – low, oddly rasping, drawing out throaty consonants into near-growls - giving a curious counter-point to the more flowing, sing-song sound she'd already learned to connect with the locals.

"This one lays these eyes upon you for the first time," droned the translator box dangling from Collins' hip after a moment – the voice perhaps a little bit halting, without emotion or inflection, but it got the point through. "This one is known as _–translation error- _of Mount Coryal. Does the _wanderer/traveler/sojourner_ speak with the _lord/master/leader_ of this.." There was a moment's pause as those golden eyes flicked up to the steel belly of the _Wayfarer,_ "..vessel?"

The collie's eyebrow shot up, her hand slipping down to give the side of the translator box a soft smack – solid-state circuitry, of course, didn't care one whit for it, but she couldn't help the instinct. An obscure dialect, maybe? She hadn't had this much trouble with the thing in weeks. Though what did come through – she hadn't had the time to get all the cultural nuances down pat, but that'd sounded an awfully lot like she'd imagine one would greet a warlord in their stronghold. With the added bonus of firm but not subservient – very confident of oneself, especially seeing as he hadn't named a village to back himself up.. Coryal? All the way up there? He must've been walking for _weeks_. A day more, and he'd have missed them!

"I lay my eyes upon you for the first time.." She paused for a moment, trying to approximate the word she thought was his name. Skee? Schrai? There was that odd throaty ring to it that made it hard to tell, "of Coryal. I am Karen Collins, captain of the _Wayfarer_. For what purpose have you journeyed this far?"

Golden eyes flashed softly at her in amusement, the black-ringed, white-tipped length of a rich, fluffy vulpine tail flicking. "You may call this one Skye, Karen Collins Captain of the _Wayfarer_," he corrected gently, forming the unfamiliar words slowly, before shaking his head, expression turning serious. "This one heard _stories/rumors/secrets_ of a _ship/vessel_ that travels between the stars," he murmured – Collins idly tapped at the side of the translator box again, wincing at the halting speech it issued when the fox was done. "This one has _need/must/duty _to ask for a favor of you, Karen Collins Captain of-"

"Captain Collins will do," the collie interrupted, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "What is it that you need? While I hate to be inhospitable, the _Wayfarer_ is getting ready to depart your world. I'll soon be needed elsewhere."

The fox lifted an eyebrow, then chuckled, flexing a little – she could feel the tiger tensing up mildly beside herself. Something about the fox – it seemed to have the big feline on edge.. "Good. This one prefers to be direct," the todd rumbled, sharp teeth flashing. "This one _wants/needs/must _accompany you, at least for a while."

A single eyebrow shot up, Collins cocking her hip to the side and crossing her arms under her chest. "You must, really? Well, we're not a taxi service, Mr. Skye.. a ferry," she clarified at the look she got at the reference. "The _Wayfarer_ is an explorer ship. We find new worlds, new places, new people – we don't pick up natives. The commission'd wear my tail for a belt-"

"No! You do not _see/know/understand.."_ He took a step closer – Patris' hand went to his holster, until Collins hissed at him, ears folding back. Skye halted in his tracks, golden eyes flicking between the two, a soft rumble in his chest. "I am no hot-head looking for glory and adventure," he murmured. "There is a _thing/precious/treasure_ _lost/missing/taken _from me – it is not under this sky. I _know/feel/_see it - I _need/must/duty_ to come with you, to find it. To _learn/know _the stars – to reclaim my _duty/honor/charge._" Golden eyes looked up at her, boring into hers – so old, she realized, like an old soldier, filled with need and determination.. "_Please,_ Captain Collins" he rumbled, muzzle scrunching up like the word tasted bad on his tongue. "Do not make me _beg._"

Just for a moment, she was ready to tell him to turn back. But the look in his eyes – she knew that if she said no.. there might not be violence. But.. she wasn't looking forwards to having her security find a stowaway among the landing gear, either.

"Come up to my cabin, Mr. Skye," she finally sighed, shaking her head. "We'll talk more. And maybe – _maybe_ – we can work something out."

_Crazy furball,_ she thought, shaking her head softly. _Striking_ crazy furball, certainly, though – she'd never seen that combination of colors before on a fox, eyes such a bright, wolf-like gold.. and fur such a deep, rich, dark regal blue to go with it.


	2. Mission

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimer and warnings_

_**Star Fox Odium**_

_**Chapter 2 - Mission**_

* * *

Another day, another barfight. And this time, it even wasn't their fault.

The day had started off like many others before it – another seedy dive at the outskirts of Lylat, killing time between contracts. Wolf was ignoring Panther trying to chat up one of the bar girls – a rather curvy raccooness - the wolf himself focused on his cards and (largely unsuccessfully) trying to decipher his other teammate's expressions. Reptiles were damned hard to read, and Leon was a particularly good example. The chameleon's cool, near-mechanical demeanor lead most to think that the assassin didn't_ have_ emotions, discounting occasional annoyance.

Wolf had a small scout drone's worth of sensors built into the bionic bolted onto his skull over where his left eye'd used to be, and if he didn't know better he would've been inclined to agree. The fact that it was hard to keep eye contact with someone who could look _behind_ himself without turning his head only made things worse.

"Full house, sevens and jacks." Wolf put his cards down, one of Leon's eyes swiveling down to look at them while the other was pointed somewhere behind and to the left – Wolf would've made a crack about always keeping one eye on their backs, but it would've been wasted on the crowd. Instead, he did his best to try and not imagine how the reptile must've seen the world – he'd ended up doing that, once, bored out of his skull, and the thinking about it too much had given him a splitting headache.

"Four queens," the chameleon rasped, brightly smiling girls on the cards seeming to mock the lupine. Wolf cursed quietly, rolling his good eye as he reached out to push a bunch of chips Leon's way-

"_CHEATER!"_

Wolf was halfway out of his seat by instinct before realizing the shout wasn't directed at him – instead, a big, shaggy bear was roaring into the face of a rodent of some sort, on the other side of the room. Around them, people were standing up and looking their way – out of the corner of his eye, Wolf could see the bartender already hiding away the good stuff.

Now, four hundred kilos of pissed bear screaming into your face is terrifying, at best, and every bit of common sense said that the rodent – could've been a mouse, could've been a gerbil, could've been a bit of both, whatever he was he must've been about fifty kilos, tops, fully geared and soaking wet – should've backed down. Instead, he _taunted_ the ursine – something about his mother and berries, Wolf didn't quite catch it.

The bear responded with a haymaker that should've, by all accounts, taken half the little guy's face straight off. And that should've really been it.

Instead, gerbil boy shook his head, lying on the deck, spat out blood, looked up at the bear, and honest-to-gods _snarled_ before _pouncing_ – and going straight for the throat. The bear stumbled back, crashing into a table – there was the sound of breaking glass, and a cougar yelled something about his drink before joining in. It snowballed from there.

What felt like half a second later, Wolf had his back pressed to Panther's, the lupine growling while both his hands were busy keeping a rat – damn strong for one, too, and he _reeked_ – from strangling him. Behind him, a skunk, his face bloody from a cut above his eyes, swung a broken bottle at Panther – or tried to, getting a knee to his gut for the trouble. Wolf hadn't even _met_ either of them before, and to his knowledge they hadn't stepped on any toes lately, either – so why the hell were these guys getting up into their face?

A loud smash of glass sounded, followed by little chips of glass raining down on him from above. The rat twitched, and Wolf took the chance to use his favorite kick – kneepad smashing straight up between the rat's thighs with enough force to actually lift him an inch or two off the floor. His arms went slack, muddy yellow eyes crossing with pain, and Wolf headbutted him, taking him out of the picture before looking up – and seeing Leon, the sticky pads of his palms and mag-boots clinging to the bulkhead, out of the melee.

A shotglass exploded against the wall right next to the chameleon's face, and Wolf looked down to see one of the bar girls, a squirrel about half the chameleon's size hissing epithets, bombarding him with whatever happened to be handy – until two seconds later, one of the other girls pounced her. The two went down in a screaming, hissing, struggling tangle of clawing limbs and flying fur. Any jokes about catfights died before he could even think about them – ten minutes ago the two had seemed like the best friends, and now – there was _blood _flying_._ Weirdly enough, no-one had pulled a gun, not yet anyhow – a place like this, more than half the customers had to be packing heat.

"Was it something I said?" Panther yelled at him over his shoulder, before ducking a swipe and repaying the favor. The rat Wolf'd knocked out was picking himself back up, and the lupine fully expected he'd get pounced again. Instead, a random combatant caught the rodent's attention – not that it made things any easier for him, since three _other_ people, gangers judging by the decorated leather coats, spotted them at the same time. "These guys are crazy!"

"Tell me about it," Wolf snarled. The 'cooness Panther'd been flirting at came at him like a bat out of Hell, screaming something incomprehensible, seemingly unaware of the blood on her lips or the fact that her dress was barely hanging onto her – Wolf turned, ducking away from the mad rush, the side of his palm catching the base of her neck as she rushed past. She let out a soft whimper, swallowed up by the roar of the fight, and collapsed just as ganger swung a length of chain at him, throwing sparks from the deckplate, missing by a hair's breadth. "Need to get out of here.. Everybody, cover up! Leon, dazzle 'em!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Wolf saw Panther kick away at the ganger going for him, the feline closing his eyes and covering his ears. Wolf himself ducked a swipe, ears folding back as his palms smacked up over them, closing his good eye, the view of his bionic going dim as the lens polarized itself – there was a soft _thunk_ as a metallic object clattered to the deckplates – and then Leon's dazzler grenade went off like a disco ball from Hell.

Regular flashbangs were bad enough, but this one didn't go off with a concussive _thump_ but an incredibly loud, painful, electronic _screech_, resonant vibrations sawing along Wolf's bones and making his teeth rattle in their sockets as the thing added its own personal brand of hellish racket to the melee. Over at the bartop, several bottles straight-out exploded from the noise in showers of shards and alcohol, the big mirror on the wall cracking. All over the hall, people went down from the aural assault – screams drowned by the noise, trying to cover their ears. And that was just half of it – there was an incredibly bright flash, so bright Wolf could still see parts of it through his closed eyelid, the grenade's one-shot holoprojector overloading itself - a chaotic flash of pulsing, vibrating, swirling colors, every shade and hue he could imagine and a couple you wouldn't see on any rainbow, an insane, _painful_ kaleidoscope..

Reaching out to grab Panther's upper arm, trying to shake away the afterimages and ignoring the shrill whistle in his ears, Wolf yanked at his teammate and took off, Leon thumping to the floor right behind them – despite the seeming awkwardness of the chameleon's long limbs, he could get up to a fairly respectable clip, and now all three of them were putting all they could into it, ducking and weaving through dazed people, sidestepping prone (and mostly groaning) bodies as they dashed out of the bar. Off in the distance, the whine of sirens was getting closer as Security was stepping up to the job – too late, maybe, though. The fighting was already spreading out into the streets of the station.

Wolf'd been through _wars_, and he'd still never seen anything like the chaos that'd hit them, the naked, _insane_ violence and aggression they'd just experienced. The whole altercation had taken only a couple of minutes, and it felt like _hours._ Out of all three of them, it was Leon who put words to what they were all thinking.

"What," the chameleon hissed, pebbly, scaly skin having turned a bright mix of reds and oranges from the excitement, eyes flicking every which way, "the _hell_ is _wrong_ with these people?"

* * *

_Increasing unrest and violence in the northwestern sections of Lylat has lead the Cornerian Military into deploying additional forces in the area for peacekeeping operations. Experts claim that such deployments near the Xechek border may be considered an act of aggression; General Pepper, of Corneria, has urged the citizens of Lylat to.._

"Mute," Fox snapped, one arm wrapped around Krystal's waist as the two padded into the rec room. There was a faint obliging chirp from the multi-screen, the feline newsreader's lips moving silently. The vixen, now clad in a warm, fluffy bathrobe, quite happily leaned against Fox, drawing support from him – the presence she'd touched in her dream.. she'd only skimmed the surface, and yet she'd dipped much deeper into the sensations and instincts in the storm that she'd intended to. Now her body felt oddly _wrong_ to her – she had to adjust for a different point of balance, into a body differently shaped, _smaller_ than her confused senses were trying to tell her – she was fairly sure that whatever she'd touched had had more limbs beyond the traditional five, too.

Besides, she thought to herself, allowing the faintest of smiles on her muzzle as they took over one of the sofas, Fox felt wonderfully _focused –_ a steely determination, _mine, keep-her-safe, keep-her-happy._ It was nice to feel he cared. He made the perfect anchor, to help her push away the sensations still whirling away in her mind – though she had to physically keep herself from just curling up right against him. Not that she would've minded the thought.. and touching Fox as she was, she could tell he certainly wouldn't have, either.. but right now, it was better to keep away from the.. distraction.

"What happened?," Fox asked – dark green eyes were so warm on hers, and she didn't need to be a telepath to know he cared, that he'd do anything to keep her safe. Blushing a little, folding her ears back, Krystal looked to the side, purposefully breaking the connection. _Focus,_ she told herself. _You're not some lovesick kit looking for comfort. You've been through much worse than a bad dream._

"I.. I had a dream," she murmured, shaking her head, willing her thoughts into organization – or trying to, anyways. Despite her determination, she suddenly realized her fingers were clenched into the sleeve of Fox's flight jacket – and that neither of them seemed particularly to care. Flicking her tailtip, she coughed a little, loosening her grip somewhat.

"I mean, a.. I don't know what to call it. A vision? Sometimes, when I sleep, I.. I tap into the dreams and thoughts of nearby people. Like you. Slippy. Peppy. Falco." It was a good thing, for her, that the _Great Fox_ was mostly automated under ROB's control. A cruiser this size would've had hundreds of people crewing it, otherwise – and she wouldn't have had a minute's worth of peaceful sleep..

She paused for a moment, feeling an odd sensation from Fox, and looked up just in time to catch a slight flush growing under the male's fur, the insides of his ears distinctly pink. Blinking, Krystal focused a little, mentally reaching out just a tad towards him – and then blushed intensely when she got a mental image of just what kind of dreams _he_ was thinking of. "Stoppit," she murmured, reaching out her free hand to poke at his chest. "If it had been _that_ kind of dream, I wouldn't be here."

"Sorry," Fox coughed, looking away from her, and she could feel him pushing the thoughts aside. Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile a little, stifling a giggle. It _was_ a little flattering, afterall, in an odd sort of a way. And to be honest, it was a welcome distraction from.. before. "But what you saw tonight," Fox finally murmured slowly, "It wasn't anything from.. one of us. Was it?"

"No," Krystal assured him, with emphasis. "No, it wasn't. I.. I don't know _what_ it was. But it was.." She shivered a little, and felt Fox's arm tighten a little around her waist. "_Alien,_" was the only word she could think of, at first. "I've never.. never felt anything like it. Old. Powerful. And so far away – but to feel it from such a distance.." She shivered again. "I don't know.."

Fox made a thoughtful churring noise in the back of his throat. "Do you think.. Is it going to be a threat? Like the Aparoid?"

"I.. I don't know," Krystal had to say. She could remember the feel of the half-cybernetic monsters, the yawning, soul-gnawing hunger from the Queen, the thirst that wouldn't ever be sated – "No. Not like the Aparoid. It's powerful, but I.. I didn't sense any malice from it. Just.." A deep, yearning need, searching, ever searching.. "It's.. It's like it was almost _lonely_," she whispered, shivering as memory brought up that mind-voice again, like the scream of wind and the rumble of thunder had formed words. _Where are you? _ "Looking for something.."

Only when a not-quite-delicate cough sounded from behind them, did she realize just close she'd curled up against Fox, seeking warmth from his frame. Startled, the two of them fell apart, two sets of green eyes snapping up – to find a blue-feathered avian leaning on the doorway to the rec room, a cocky smirk on his beak. "Sorry to interrupt," Falco drawled, amusement radiating from him, "But there's a call for you in the comms room. Pepper wants to speak with you."

"We'll be there in fifteen," Fox growled, irritation washing against Krystal's mind. She couldn't help but flush a little – she could also sense a certain disappointment, too..

* * *

Thirteen minutes later, clad in her flight suit and having sorted out her hair, fur and thoughts to an extent, Krystal was feeling much more.. herself. The phantom impressions left behind by the mental contact had largely faded, too, so she could rely to stay on her own two paws. Not that that kept Fox from hovering protectively over her shoulder all the way from her door to the comms room. Nor did she mind, really..

"Star Fox." A plume of light above the dip of the center conference table flickered before focusing into the slightly blue-tinted face of a greyhound. The man.. Krystal would've never said it out loud, but he'd clearly seen better days. Red-brown fur was beginning to gray out in places, giving him a dignified mustache of sorts - but those eyes.. they were as smart and bright as Krystal had ever seen them, clear and determined. "Thank you for responding."

"General Pepper, sir," Fox greeted back – the hound was about the only person Krystal'd ever seen who the male vulpine would show outright respect to. Except perhaps Peppy – though that was more often hidden behind their camaderie.

It felt.. interesting, to sit here, with the team in the same place – the crew didn't share her gifts of her mind, of course, but she could almost 'feel' how they all fit together. Confident, skilled Falco, intelligent and excitable Slippy.. Peppy, old and wise, and Fox. Certain, courageous leader Fox, the lynchpin who bound them all together, into a whole more than the sum of its parts. And sometimes.. sometimes she could feel herself sliding into that unity, as well. When they flew together, when death was but a hair's breadth away and all standing between it and them was pure passion and instinct, of _acting _before _thinking_, of knowing where your friends stood with you..

"What can we do for you?"

Krystal folded her ears back in embarrassment, realizing she'd let her thoughts drift away from her. Shaking her head just a little, she focused on the hologram of Corneria's prime General – it still felt.. strange.. even after all this time, to see him but not _feel_ him with her mind – and perked her ears.

"Negotiations with the Xechek Hegemony are finally starting in a week's time," Pepper's voice crackled over the comms. "They've agreed to send an ambassador of theirs over to our side of the border. Seeing as they're our largest neighbor, I don't have to explain to you how important these diplomatic negotiations are going to be for all of Lylat." Pepper paused, letting his words sink in. "I am contacting you officially to ask for the Star Fox team join in as a part of the diplomatic entourage."

There was a soft ruffling noise to the side as Falco perked up from his spot on the seats – he must've spent too much time with Katt, because there was something distinctly feline about the way he managed to lounge on the somewhat uncomfortable chairs.

"You want _us_ to take part in a diplomatic mission? You didn't forget about the big damn lasers on the main hull, did you?"

"Falco!" Fox snapped, before shaking his head. "He's got a point, General. Why do you want us along? We're a lot better at blowing stuff up than building peace."

"Apparently, Xechek traditions expect the delegation to include members of both their.. Worker and Warrior castes," Pepper murmured, head dipping down thoughtfully. A faint rustle of papers sounded from off-screen.

"Ah, yes, there it is. Yes. _To ensure the benefit of both halves of the people, and those who lead them, so that all may prosper_. While we have no such.. caste division, they'll be expecting us to have both skilled diplomats _and_ strong arms along." There was a second pause. "Also, the Xechek are an insectoid species. After the Aparoid War.. well, most of the Lylat System have low opinions about them. It'd ease the people's minds, to see the heroes of Lylat there." Another pause, the hound's muzzle scrunching up in displeasure.

"And last, with all the trouble stirring up in that part of Lylat.. I'll be honest with you, Fox. I'm worried. It'd ease an old man's mind to have you there, in case something happens. I'm not expecting you to do any of the diplomatic heavy lifting – leave that to the professionals – but just.. be there. If I'm wrong, if this is nothing – well, consider it a paid vacation."

There was a second silence, the hound's eyes expectant upon Fox, while the mercenary himself glanced around the group, one after another – Peppy, Slippy, Falco, and finally Krystal herself. Those green eyes looked into hers, searching, and she could _see_ the decision there forming almost before she felt it, a spark deep within the male. Every now and then – every now and then, he made her wonder if they didn't share her gift after all..

"Alright, General. We'll do it. Just send us whatever information we'll need."

Relief washed over Pepper's features, an expression that seemed to make a few years fall off his shoulders. "Thank you. This means much to me.. and all the people of Lylat." Despite his words, Krystal could see not all the tension had left his eyes. "I've lived through many enough wars for one lifetime, Fox. I'd rather not see a new one started if we can avoid it. Pepper.. Out."

* * *

"Hey.. Who's that?"

Damon looked up, muzzle twitching as the shepherd craned his neck a little to see over the crowd of the _Wayfarer_'s mess hall.

"Who?" he rumbled, straining a little – the snow leopard was too damn tall for him, and he had an easier time peering through the mass. Tech, tech, Marine, the cute scientist from Planetary, and.. the crowd split just right, and Damon lifted an eyebrow. At the other end of the hall, alone at his little table – Fox, was his first impression. Fairly tall and broad-shouldered, if he could tell, and.. blue? Sure, he'd seen 'blue' foxes before, but not that particular shade of blue – deep and rich. Dressed in dark leather and simple coarse-looking fabric for the most part – standing out like a sore thumb, now that he'd been spotted – skeptically eying the order pad for the mess hall diner.

"I.." His brow furrowed, ears twitching thoughtfully. "I.. have no idea. Where'd this guy come from?"

"Who, him?" Mathias, a thick-maned lion from Engineering, lifted his head to eye the newcomer. Blissfully unaware of the scrutiny, the male was still poking experimentally at the order terminal, a focused look on his blue-furred face. "Some native the Captain picked up on Calthan IV. Had a funny name – Cloud or Sky or Rain or something.."

"Hmmn." Damon twitched his tail, the shepherd's ears twitching thoughtfully. Rumor and gossip – on a small ship, it tended to reach FTL speeds. "What's a native doing all the way up here? I thought they weren't advanced enough to trade with, yet."

"Pshaw. He's no ambassador." Mathias rolled his slit green eyes expressively, waving a sandy-furred paw. "Way I hear it, he just walked up and asked to come along."

"A native? Man's got a set of solid cast brass. Last time I heard, half the villagers thought the sky was going to fall on them when the _Wayfarer_ set down."

"Solid set of cast brass or no, doesn't explain why the Captain let him on board in the first place," Christopher – the snow leopard - murmured, thick long richly spotted tail twitching. "Not her style."

"Maybe he's just that persuasive," Mathias chuckled, shrugging. "You know, big tall todd, exotic, savage, easy on the eyes.."

"Probably spends a lot of time working on that fur," Chris noted. "Didn't know they sold dyes all the way out here."

"I doubt that's dyed," Damon noted idly, cocking his head to the side, trying to puzzle the man out. "Too realistic. Dyed fur oughta look more.. flat, you know. He's got all his markings left and all.."

After a moment, the shepherd paused, looking up to see the two felines giving him curious looks.

"What?" he defended himself. "I dated this cougar girl in college, and she liked to dye herself into a faux tigress. If that's a dye-job, she would've _killed_ to meet whoever's helping him.."

There was a moment's pause as the rest of the table considered the resulting mental images, Mathias finally opening his muzzle to say something – only to be interrupted by a distinctive sharp 'buzz!' of electronic displeasure from the todd's direction. Three sets of eyes watched as the fox tapped at the console with a distinct snarl of irritation settling over that azure muzzle, golden eyes flashing.

"Hasn't quite gotten the hang of modern times yet, has he?"

"I doubt he even knew the language two weeks back," Mathias pointed out calmly. "Give him time.. oh _hello_, now this'll be interesting.."

Damon's ears twitched. The fox had gotten tired of his resisting terminal – and turned to reach out, flagging a passing labtech. Though the background chatter of the messhall drowned any voices, the German shepherd could easily see the dynamics – a big, strong, powerfully built male, and a short, slender, pale-furred mouse-girl..

"Isn't that Cali?" Christopher rumbled thoughtfully, rounded feline ears perked curiously. "You'd think she'd be all over him by now."

He was right, too. Damon knew the slim girl had a thing for bigger males, particularly canines – he'd caught her giving himself some looks, too, particularly on the gravdeck training areas. Not that he complained about a cute little thing like her watching him working out – but now.. Instead of that shy blush he'd come to expect, Cali was visibly shying back, ears folded back along her skull, long slim tail twitching and flicking nervously. Predator senses were unmistakable – the girl was about one loud noise away from bolting, and heading for the deepest hidey-hole she could find..

It wasn't like the newcomer seemed to be intentionally frightening her, either. There was irritation clear on his face, sure, tail twitching in an agitated fashion as he gestured at the console, and he probably had enough mass to make three of her, but..

Three sets of eyes watched as the girl, nervously, padded in, bent over a little to make a few adjustments, pointing out something – slim fingers flicked over the touch-screen, and there was a cheerful happy 'ping!' from the device. Moments before an aperture in the wall slid open, and a trayful of food came rolling out. The fox eyed the thing, tail flicking, before nodding – the mousette nodded back, trying to look polite – and as soon as the fox's back was turned.. well, she didn't _quite_ run. But that had to be about the most urgent walk he'd ever seen, at least before Mathias flagged her over with a cheerful 'Yo, Cali!' and an inviting wave.

Damon tried not to grin at the hurry she took when she slipped their way, scampering up to the seat beside him – grin just widening as the mouse leaned in for a moment, almost pressing herself against him before catching herself. That smile, though, died just as fast when he realized she was still shivering a little..

"I see you met the newcomer," Mathias rumbled, the lion's tuft-tipped tail twitching as he leaned in. "Not to your liking?"

"Cali?" Damon glanced around himself, then carefully reached his hand out to clasp her shoulder, leaning a little towards her. "What's wrong? Did he say something to you?"

"He…" Cali gulped a little, big blue eyes wide, before shaking her head. "He.. Nothing. He just wanted me to help him order some food. I.."

"Bull," Christopher murmured flatly – ignoring the curious look tossed his way by a nearby bovine Marine. "You don't get that terrified if someone asks you for pointers on the menu. He threaten you or something? He's big, yeah, but we've got a whole marine compliment on board."

"No." Cali shook her head, reached a slim hand up to waft some hair out of her eyes, and took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. "I'm serious. He.. he didn't say anything. Nothing bad, anyhow – in fact he was.. kinda polite. I think. I was too.. yeah.. to really tell."

The mousette shuddered again, curling up on herself a little. "You know.. you know when you talk to a big pred type you don't know? Bigger than you? And there's a little part of your brain, that no matter how much you know they won't hurt you, that makes you want to run and hide..?"

Damon winced a little. He _did_ know the feeling – primitive instinct, yeah, but no less irritating for it – though being a predator himself, he'd never felt it too badly. Cali, though, was a mouse, both very much a prey type and what instinct said was pretty much the smallest of them around..

"Cali, _I'm _about his size," the shepherd pointed out with a soft growl. "And I remember the first time you saw me. Tongue-tied, sure. About to run screaming? No."

She favored him with a flat look at being described as 'tongue-tied', though a little part of him _did_ notice a little pleased flash in those big blue eyes at being told he remembered meeting her for the first time..

"Yeah, well," she murmured, shaking her head, "He's handsome and all, but he doesn't _feel_ like he's your size. He felt like a freaking lion.. no offense, Mathias.."

"None taken," the big lion grinned, white teeth flashing. Cali shuddered visibly at the view.

"Yeah. Or.. bigger. You know. It's silly, I know, but.. not like in the way he was gunna _eat_ me or anything. More like, so big he'd step on me and wouldn't even _notice_ if I got underfoot." Cali paused for a moment, leaning closer to Damon again – who, quite happily, reached his arm back around her shoulder, ignoring the grins they were getting from the felines.

"It must've been nerves or something," she finally decided. "He didn't seem like a _bad_ guy. But.. You know, I heard someone say he was looking for something," she murmured thoughtfully. "And from a distance.." She shook softly again. "Whatever it is.. I'm not sure if I should feel jealous or sorry for it."


	3. Comfort

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and warnings_

_**Star Fox Odium**_

_**Chapter 3 - Comfort**_

* * *

The grove was burning.

Krystal could feel the heat of the flames on her fur and skin, the smell of smoke and ash and singed wood filling her nose with every breath.. that, and the faint, bitter metal tinge of blood on the wind. The crackle and hum of flames had replaced the rustle of leaves and wind, the birds silent. Smoldering embers littered the path underneath her sandals as she ran – vaguely, she realized from the clatter and jingle that she was wearing her old outfit, thin but sturdy armor plates guarding her lower legs, shoulders and arms. A little part of her brain noted the engraved patterns in the metal were glowing, a faint, soothing cool blue-white radiance – but the rest of her pushed on. Something was rising behind her, a darkness skittering at the back of her mind, itching and clawing..

A familiar clearing came to view, even as behind her, one of the trees fell with a loud crackle, embers floating up in a torrent of sparkling red and orange. The fields of flowers were slowly turning a dirty brown, the plants withering and dying before her eyes. A figure kneeled between them, blurred and instinct – a ghost of a giggle drifting into her ears, hands tearing bunch after bunch of flowers out of the ground and tossing them into the approaching flames. It was _wrong, _everything was _wrong _– but Krystal didn't stay behind to try and stop it, the meadow fading into memory behind her as she ran. A final giggle drifted up into her ears as she rounded the turn, before the crackle of fire engulfed it all.

The stream was still there, she could hear from the faint splashing sound ahead – but when she caught sight of it, she skidded to a halt. The previously so cool and soothing water was thick as mud, colored a deep, dirty red, like a river of half-coagulated blood – the wooden bridge creaking and swaying, the vines that'd decorated it now dry and withered, leaving the thing a skeleton of its former self. Just for a brief moment, she considered turning back, before a creak of burning wood crumbling under its own weight made her rethink it. Feeling tears flowing down her cheeks, she forced herself to push on.. only part from the smoke stinging her eyes. _Why? Why am I seeing this? What did I do to deserve.._

Behind her, the butterflies ignited into fluttering flames, falling like little meteors one after another, before the lantern fell from its hook onto the bridge. Dashed into a thousand little gleaming shards, they winked at her one last time before the whole bridge went up with a fiery _whoomph. _It was getting closer, she realized, the flames and the smoke growing hotter and thicker. What had been a path she'd walked so many times was getting narrower and more.. _sinister_, the branches of the forest tugging at her fur, whipping at her face, roots rising to snarl her paws – but she ran. She _had_ to run. Whatever was coming behind was worse, so much worse..! She fought her way through the woods, pulling herself free from the branches, sidestepping roots. Once she tripped, the air driven out of her lungs with a painful _whump_ on impact – but she picked herself up, yanked her paw out of the grip of the roots wrapping around her ankle, forced herself to rise again, and then..

She burst out of the forest, and into a familiar yard. The plants were already dying here, too, dry leaves rustling under her paws – on both sides of the path boxes of herbs were turning brown, withering away. A part of her mind realized that her mother had poured so much love and care into growing them, and now..

"Mother!" She took the stairs up two at a time, sandals thumping on the wooden deck. "Father!" The darkness was growing outside the house, chittering and screaming in her senses, making her shy away – she had to find them —

Strong arms caught her, held her. Just for a brief moment she struggled, a startled squeak escaping her muzzle – and then that warm, familiar scent filled her senses, the calming memory of arms around her..

"Father," she whispered, burying her muzzle into his fur, tears tracking down her cheeks. "What.. what's happening..?"

_Darkness rises from the heart of the world,_ a voice whispered into her ear – a hand pressed against hers, cool metal caught them, a familiar length of engraved metal. Her staff, held between them as a second, more shapely body pressed to her side – father and mother and daughter holding each other in a shared embrace, as around them, the darkness rose.. their little home an island in the sea of blood and darkness rising around them. Around her paws, a circle of power was flaring to life, her father's arms tightening around her, holding their little family close – she could feel it from him, _determination_ and _defiance_ and a stubborn, proud _will-not-die-here, _coupled with warm _love _and _pride_ and _trust _from her mother_.._.

Power crackled and hummed around them, pulling them _away_, the world melting around them – at once, she felt like she was being both squeezed and cradled gently between her parents, while their very _selves_ were clinging to one another. Like flying, or falling deep, deep, through the darkness and towards safety – power, so much _power_ – and still not enough. It was like something was pulling them apart from one another, a powerful grip holding onto her while she clung back to her family with all her might – and she was slipping, despite everything they did.

Terror ripped through her as she felt it, that faltering as that pull dragging her _away_ grew stronger and stronger. And through her connection – _defiance_, so stubborn, and.. _fear_ – fear of loss, growing in a gnawing ache, three souls trying to cling to one another through the forces pulling them apart, like castaways swept away through a raging wave. She looked to her father – and for one moment, one detail became crystal clear. Eyes full of anger and sorrow and pride, so _old,_ digging into hers as if he could keep her there by sheer will alone – shame, fear of failure – and _love_. So much _love_ for her. A few times, she'd wondered if she'd been abandoned because she hadn't been wanted – now, she'd gotten her answer for that, if the memory shard held correct. Still, the realization didn't fill her with a warmth she'd hoped for, but a brutal, aching sense of _loss.._ and she slipped.

_I love you,_ echoed in her ears – and suddenly, warm fur was fading away, becoming insubstantial as mist, even as terror flooded her mind. Her parents, melting away, or was it her who was melting away from them? She cried out, screaming in defiance, trying to hold to them, and all she got for her efforts was cold water splashing into her fur and armfuls of chill rain..

_**Where are you?,**_ the storm roared, wind tearing at her fur, clouds spreading above her like a great set of wings – so much alien _fury_ and _mourning _and _need_, engulfing her, filling her..

* * *

A chime at the door. Fox woke up with a grunt, green eyes snapping open before blinking blearily, turning his head to see the clock on the wall – two in the morning? Who'd want to see him at two in the morning, he wondered, grumbling wordlessly under his throat as he slipped out of bed and padded blearily towards the door, dressed up in a set of pajama pants..

"Mnrrff. What's going –_"_ Hydraulics hissed as his door slid open, and right on the other side.. _"Krystal? _You.. you.."

"Look terrible, I know," she murmured – and while Fox had the brains to not flat-out agree with her, he couldn't really say anything against it, either. The cerulean vixen's fur and hair was mussed up, the normally bright emerald green of her eyes dull – little tracks of moisture tracking her cheeks, like she'd been crying. Little shakes and shivers tracked up and down her body as Fox watched, dumbstruck – she was dressed up in one of her bathrobes again, a dark green fluffy thing, her paws bare on the metal deck. "Can I.. can I come in? Please?"

The question had Fox finally snapping out of her confusion, shaking his head to clear it before drawing back from the door. "Uhh, yeah, sure. Come right in, make yourself at home. Just.. Sorry for the mess." Fox spent so much time on the training deck, comms room, and doing all the little things one needed to actually run a mercenary group, it left him very little time for his chores. It was funny how things seemed to pile up, even without him really doing much else than sleep in his cabin – though then again, he had a fair amount of stuff, too. Mementos or trophies of every world he'd visited or fought at – a miniature Arwing, Landmaster, Blue Marine and Great Fox on his desk, a little souvenir globe from Corneria, a giant pearl from the depths of Aquas, a photo of Zoness before Andross had fouled the resort planet's environment.. A picture of him and Krystal, smiling at the camera, the huge, hulking red-orange mass of Tricky behind them, bright blue eyes peering over his shoulder at them. He saw Krystal glance around before spotting the photo – and the little smile that grew onto her muzzle made a nice warm feeling spread in his chest.

"Thank you, Fox," the vixen murmured, her voice soft. Long blue fingers reached out, brushing softly over the frame of the photo as she passed, rounded hips swaying under the bathrobe – a bunch of dirty laundry was already occupying his desk chair, so after a moment of consideration she sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at him. Behind her, the door hissed shut, leaving them alone. "I.. I'm sorry to bother you," she whispered. "I didn't realize how early it was-"

"Hey, that's all right," Fox murmured back, gently but purposefully cutting her off. She looked so small and alone there, shivering by herself, he didn't even have to think about it – slipping in to sit beside her, one of his arms reaching around her shoulders. Just for a brief moment, she tensed under his touch – before she let loose a soft, almost purring sound and relaxed a little, warm as she pressed to his side. He didn't even try and cover up the smile growing on his muzzle. "I don't mind, really. Just.. What happened? You look.. shaken up."

For a long while, she was quiet against him – he could feel her heartbeat against his side, he realized, her soft, feminine scent filling his nose. No perfume, just.. Her. Fresh and free, just as when they'd first met.. "I had a dream, again," she finally whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. "A.. A nightmare, really. And you.." Was there a hint of a flush growing under the fur of her muzzle and ears? "You felt.. nice. Soothing. Calm."

Despite himself, Fox couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Thanks. I guess." His hand rose, gently running his fingers through her hair - he could see her eyelids droop a little at the pet, the folded-back cant of her ears relaxing, and he smiled, repeating the gesture. "Did you want to talk about it..?"

"It didn't make much sense," she whispered. "It was.. It was my home. And fire. and I saw.." She paused, pressing back against him a little, burying her muzzle into the fur of his shoulder. "I saw my family. My parents, Fox.. Why can't I _remember.._" Her ears were sliding back into that hurt cant, her voice turning into a sob – and he could feel hot moisture seeping into his fur from her cheek. And despite himself, Fox couldn't help feeling his spine stiffen – _Parents._ He had his own set of emotional scars on that front, too. And from the way he felt her stiffen in his arms – now she knew it, too.

"Tell me about them?" he asked, trying to focus to push his own memories aside. "I.. For all the time I've known you, you haven't spoken a word about them.."

"That's because.. there's not much to tell," she whispered. Her muzzle rose out of his fur, green eyes looking at him – he could see the pain in her eyes, sorrow and frustration – he didn't need to be a telepath to read her, not when she was so vulnerable. "I.. I can't remember then, Fox… Not their names. Not their faces. How home looked. It's like – it's like it's been wiped clean from me.." She buried her face in his pelt, again, her slim fingers clutching at his fur. "I've been so alone.. looking for them for so long.. I miss them so much.. and I can't even _remember_ them.." She went quiet and shook in his arms, silent sobs wracking her slender frame.

For the longest time, Fox was quiet himself, holding her in place, trying to get his own whirling thoughts under control. "I.. I miss my parents, too," he finally whispered – quietly, his eyes not looking at Krystal but through her, as his own memories came up. She couldn't remember? He couldn't _forget_. And Krystal, in his arms, feeling what he was feeling, twitched a little, her ears shifting uncertainly, one green eye opening to look at him.

"I was.. I still remember it. I was.. I was twelve. And I'd just gotten back from school that day. My mother.. She was supposed to go to the store. But her car was out of fuel.. and my Dad loaned her his."

The backpack, heavy on his shoulders. Her arms around him as Vixy leaned down to nuzzle him –_ 'Awww, Mum!' – _His father ruffling his hair, before she stood up and kissed James. "Drive carefully," Dad said. "I always do," she told him with a warm smile, keys jingling on her finger. And Fox remembered, remembered so painfully clear, watching her pad to James' car, get in and hit the ignition –

_Bright, so bright light, thunder in his ears, heat on his muzzle and burning his eyes, but he couldn't look away, couldn't look away from the one perfect heartbeat of his mother's profile, night-black against the searing, blinding blue-white, and then it was gone, she was __**gone-**_

There hadn't been a body. Just a round, molten scar in the pavement.. and one forever burned into the heart of a young boy. In the present, Fox felt the old, familiar pain tear at him, Krystal jerking in his arms with a soft whimper.

"A plasma charge, rigged into the ignition," Fox whispered. Once it started, it all bled away from him, words tumbling over one another. "A car bomb. Dad.. Dad was _devastated._ And then when we found out who did it.." He shook his head. "Andross. Still a scientist back then – he was jealous of Dad. Wanted Mom for himself. And he had somebody rig Dad's car to get her.. clear him out of his way.." The irony stung at him. A part of him wanted to laugh at it, a cold, dead laugh – it'd been his _mother._ "Instead, he killed the only thing he'd ever loved. Dad – Dad hunted him down, all the way to Venom. But he never came back.."

It hurt. It hurt, telling her the things he'd rarely told anyone, opening wounds he'd left untouched for so long – and she shook in his arms, and a part of him realized she could _feel_ it, feel his pain, too, and immediately he regretted it.. regretted making her feel it all. And that – that was when she looked up at him, her arms shifting a little to wrap around him, as well, before he could even really think of pushing her away.

"I was.. twelve, too, that night, I think," she whispered, voice so soft and quiet. "And I didn't know how I got there.. I didn't know where I was.. I didn't know _who_ I was. All I had was my staff.. my armor.. and what my parents taught me. I survived. I grew up. But I never, ever stopped looking for them.."

"..My parents would've loved you," Fox told her, quietly, running his fingers through her hair again. She chirred softly, tilting her head into his touch, cuddling up a little bit closer. "They loved me. They gave everything they could to have me grow into who I am today. And the greatest lesson they gave me.. 'never give up. Never forget who you are, never let anyone push you down.'" He paused for a moment, licking his lips. "You're one of the strongest people I know, Krystal. Strong, intelligent, resourceful, bea.." He paused again, ears shifting at his slip. "And beautiful," he told her, soldiering on. "My parents would've liked you.. and I know, wherever your parents are, whatever happened to them.. they'd be so proud of who their daughter grew up to be.."

She blinked a little, looking up at him, him looking down and into her eyes, and that moment.. he could feel it, a connection. They'd both been through so much, suffered so much.. but now, here, with her in his arms, he could take it. Could take _anything_. Her muzzle was so close to his, her breath tickling his whiskers, her eyes drawing him in, her scent so sweet and in his muzzle, the feel of her there against himself so _right_... He dipped down. She rose up. Their lips met.

She was warm, her lips sweet and soft against his, a soft purring noise of sorts slipping into his mouth from her – echoed by a deeper, more masculine rumble in his own chest. Her scent, so clear and feminine, filled his nose, her fur so silky soft and warm under his touch, and growing warmer. And her lips tasted like.. a little like blueberries?

He didn't know how long it held – it was like time stopped for a moment. He only knew that by the time the kiss – their first kiss – broke, he could feel her heart beating fast against his.. just as fast as his was.

"Hold me, Fox," she whispered, eyes shining softly, so deep, so clear, so beautiful.. "Just.. don't let me be alone tonight.."

And Fox held her. He held her against himself until she fell asleep, so safe and warm in his arms. Held her until he followed her into dreamland, too. And hours later, when ROB chimed his good mornings over the PA, Fox was still holding her.

* * *

Katt Monroe was bored. A bored kitty was a dangerous kitty – and that went doubly so when said kitty was one of the most prominent female bounty hunters in the system. Some people just needed to have _something_ occupy themselves, and Katt was one of those 'lucky' few. So, when she thought she saw a friend in the crowd – Well, a friend of Falco's, anyways, or the girl hanging out with their little group in any case, what was her name again? Her brain kept misfiling it - Gem? Jewel? Nowait, she got it – Anyhow, she pounced.

"Hey, Krystal!" The flash of blue fur she'd caught sight of didn't pause, and Katt slipped into the crowd after it – dodging and weaving between people, coming close to getting groped in the process but a flash of claws stopped that, no touching without permission _mister_ – she saw it again, a flash of fluffy blue fur, and she reached out, grabbing the first thing she could reach.

The grunt she got in response was distinctly.. not feminine. Katt blinked, and a heartbeat later flushed immensely when she realized just who she'd caught.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed up in dark leather, fairly handsome, too, with bright golden eyes, black hair contrasting sharply against his fur. Thick muscles moving under his pelt – particularly around his lower back at the moment, the long, fluffy length of his tail, white tip ringed with black, twitching in Katt's hand. Blue fur and fox, sure, but very much male – and very distinctly _not_ Krystal.

"I'm sorry," Katt murmured – the normally boisterous feline feeling about six inches tall under those golden eyes. "I, er, thought you were a friend of mine.." Belatedly, she realized she was still holding his tail, and let go. The male pulled it back and turned all the way to face her, one hand cradling the abused limb.

"No harm done, this one – no, _I_ suppose.." He had a nice voice, she realized. Very deep, with an odd, thick accent – deep and throaty, kind of.. growly. The way he seemed to be picking at his words, though, told Katt this wasn't his primary tongue – and looking at him, she could see his clothes had no manufacturer's insignia or other labels on them. In fact, they looked very much.. handmade. Either he had enough cash to dole out for some impressive replicas, or..

"Do you treat all your.. friends, like this?" Golden eyes flicked up and down her slim, toned frame – dressed in a jacket over a fairly formfitting flight suit, her fur freshly re-dyed to its usual cheery magenta-pink tone, equally platinum-dyed hair falling to her shoulders, Katt fully knew she made for a striking sight. And those eyes were calculating, in a way, but not in the usual way.. so, an off-worlder – off-system, quite possibly – who could keep his hormones under control.. and had a sense of humor, too? She could learn to _like_ him.

"No, no, I don't," she had to admit, a slow smile growing on her muzzle – blue eyes flicking to check on her wrist-com. Two hours to go before the meeting time, and an interesting handsome guy to talk with – "How about I offer you a drink to make up for it?"

They'd made for a funny image, the two of them, when she'd led them into the bar – a big – not _burly_ per say but very well-toned – fox, with deep regal blue fur, dressed mostly in black leather, and a slim, dyed-pink kitty like her in her pink-and-white flight suit. And they still made for a funny mental image ten minutes later, when she'd gotten them drinks and lead him to a table – Skye (that was his name, she'd gotten that much out of him already) had given the paper umbrella sticking out of his drink a long, deeply suspicious look, much to the amusement of the bored souls watching (not to mention Katt's), even going far enough to take a series of searching whiffs at it, black-tippled muzzle twitching. A long, pink, deft vulpine tongue finally reached out to take a curious flick at it, a soft rumble in his chest at the sensation - Katt suppressed a smirk - before he downed about a third of it with an approving look in his eyes.

"So, tell me," Katt purred, fingertip trailing a slow circle on the table between them, sipping at her own drink, "You're obviously not from around here. How're you finding the great big universe out here, so far..?"

Skye paused for a moment, one eyebrow rising – she'd never seen eyes quite that shade of gold before, she realized, almost like she could see her own reflection in them if she let herself look deep enough. The tips of the male's fingernails clinked against the side of his glass, the length of his tail shifting a little.

"_Crowded,_" he finally told her with a soft snorting chuff. "So many people.. too many people, in too little space. The air smells like sweat and oil and smoke and steel, and people press to one from all sides.. and it's been so long since one felt the wind against one's fur.." He paused for a moment, scrunching up his muzzle, before sipping at his drink a little. "Some things, though, make it.. _tolerable_."

Katt couldn't help herself. She blinked in surprise, as the words sunk in – the deadpan serious tone in that coarse accent – Her lips twitched, tailtip shifting, before a soft snicker slipped through. "To be fair, you _are_ in one of the seediest dives in the system," she pointed out. "Some of the bigger stations are much better, and the planets actual – Sauria's gorgeous at this time of the year, and Zoness-" she paused for a moment, shaking her head, ears drooping. Some years ago, Zoness _had_ been gorgeous this time of the year, yeah. That'd been before Andross' rebellion – and his armies turning the resort planet into a staging area to attack the rest of the system from. All that pollution – so little time, but Katt'd never feel the sand of the shore under her bare paws near her parents' cabin, again. Her children, maybe, or her grandchildren.. if things went well.

"Anyhow," she shook her head, ears twitching as she firmly pushed away the depressing thoughts. "Plenty of things to see, people to meet, all that, yadda yadda. But tell me.." She leaned forwards a little, hands crossing under her chin, eyes sparking at the male. "What's a big, strong, handsome man like you, _doing_ in a seedy dive in the armpit of the system like this, anyhow..?"

The fox twitched his tail, sipping at his drink, golden eyes cool as they flicked over her searchingly – a little part of Katt frowned – alright, so she was bored _and_ curious, and flirting a little, but the look on his face – it wasn't as if she asked him his life story.. "One could ask you the same," he finally murmured, "Though worded a little differently, of course. But if you must know.." He sniffed at his drink again before shrugging and taking a new sip, "There is.. something, I am traveling for. A thing lost to me, that I must find."

"Of _course_," she murmured, the white-bobbed tip of her tail flicking softly behind her. "All the way out here, too? You must be a very.. determined.. man. But what, exactly, are you.."

"Oi, _you._ Pink broad."

Katt froze for a moment before cursing under her breath, turning her head to look to the left. The source of the voice was big, burly, dressed up like a ganger, and about.. belt buckle to eye level with her. Coarse dark bristle-like hair pointed every which way around a pair of tiny, watery eyes, a tusked snout twitching and gleaming wetly at the end of a head a couple of numbers too small for the rest of his body – as far as she could see, he didn't really seem to _have_ a neck. A boar. And he had friends, too, who seemed to make up for their relative lack of size compared to their boss in pure unpleasantness. Beside her, she could _feel_ Skye tensing up, a soft churring rumble, barely audible to her, vibrating the air.

"I hear you'z been asking questions," the boar rumbled, leaning down – the sour smell wafting from his yellowed tusks making Katt's muzzle twist unpleasantly. Somebody _clearly_ didn't believe in dental hygiene.."De wrong kind'o'questions. 'Bout de wrong kind'o'people. I dink dat you'd better come wid us, now." Watery eyes shifted over towards Skye. "An' yer boyfriend oughta forget 'bout tonight, iffen he knows what's good for 'im." Behind him, his friend were chuckling and grinning meaningfully – she could feel their eyes on herself.

Katt looked over to Skye, the male's golden eyes meeting her own. And for a brief moment, there was _perfect_ understanding between them.

Therefore, it didn't come as a surprise to him when Katt quite casually lifted her paw towards her muzzle – _oooooooh, pretty little girl threatened by a big ugly man, I'm __**so scared! –**_ and then, with speed only a feline could pull off, balled her paw.. and smashed her fist into about the only vulnerable spot on him she could reach from a seated position. _Ichh,_ ran through her head, _Sweaty!_

The boar squealed in sudden pain, voice jumping up several octaves, and crumpled forwards, tiny eyes crossing in his skull – right before a blue-furred hand reached up, met the back of his head, and _yanked_ to assist with the motion. The thug's snout met the table with a loud wet _thump_ and a nasty _snap – _the front third of one of those tusks stuck in the wooden surface, as he bounced off the table and onto his ass on the floor. Skye almost _blurred_ as he followed him, a growl vibrating in the air – a savage, deep, almost feral _rowrrrrlll_ that sent shivers down her spine.

Katt followed him only a heartbeat later, while the boar's friends were still reeling. One of the men, a lanky mongrel feline with patchy fur, reached for the gun on his hip – Katt's fingers flexed, her hair and fur puffing up by instinct as her claws slid out of her fingertips, slashing at his face. He yelled in pain, stumbling back, clutching at a row of shallow cuts on his cheek – Katt's bootheel met his knee with a loud _crack!, _making him tip over, out of the count for a moment. Yells filled the air, yells and the rattle of glasses and furniture as people got out of the way.

Skye's style, meanwhile, didn't seem to be nearly as.. complicated, as hers was, but what he lacked in grace he seemed to make up in pure sheer power and aggression. A wide slam of his arm sent a canine – some sort of a bulldog mix, ugly and stout – whirling around before collapsing to the floor with a loud meaty _thud_. Only when a gecko pulled a knife and sparks flew did Katt realize the leather sheathes on the blue fox's arms covered armored bracers of some sort, adding more weight to his crushing blows, parrying away the knife – but then she had problems of her own to deal with. A dark-furred monkey of some sort was grinning toothily, visibly leering at her, long muscular arms reaching out for her – moving in to try and strangle her, her hands busy batting away his gnarled fingers reaching for her throat. "Don't want to _play_, kitty?" he taunted her, yellow teeth flashing.

"Not particularly, no," Katt gritted her teeth, ears folded back. Stepping back, she pretended to stumble, boots seeking purchase for a moment – his hands reached for her, leer widening – and then her paws snapped up, grasping his wrists and _yanking_ while her foot reached forwards to tangle with his. A second yank, a _twist_, and he slammed into the table, the wooden edge smashing the air out of his lungs. "Not with _you,_ anyhow," she hissed – right before a good elbow drop took him out of the fight for good. Shaking her head, she turned around for the next one – and then paused at the view.

Two more thugs lay in groaning heaps on the tiled floor, out for the count. In the middle of them, Skye stood tall, snarling into a second feline thug's face, fingers of one hand wrapped into a fist around his jacket front – the smaller male's boots dangling a good foot off the floor. _Strong _for his looks, Katt had to note, pausing for a second moment in pure brief appreciation for the way the male's muscles swelled and shifted under the dark, now torn leather and the blue pelt of his arm, dark engraved steel glinting dully through the tears – and then she saw movement behind him, a weasel aiming a boxy gun-shaped object at him. "Look out-!"

A _pfapft!_ of compressed air, a glittering arc as twin barbed spikes flew through the air, trailing thin silvery threads, smacking into Skye's side – and then a loud electric crackle-humm. Skye jerked, tensed, eyes snapping wide open –

And roared. It was the only word Katt could find for it – a low, deep, pained bestial _rahrrrrgh! _that made her take a step back with its intensity. Thick muscles twitched – and then he _spun_, swinging widely, yanking the stunner out of the thug's hand as the wires went taut. The little plastic gun went clattering across the floor towards Katt's feet – right as the feline thug's coat left Skye's hand at the end of that swing. The weasel's eyes went almost comically wide, a heartbeat before his friend's shoulder met his chest in a loud, meaty _crash_ that ended in the two of them sliding under a nearby table.

For a moment, all she could do was to stand and stare at Skye, the male's bright gold eyes locked on hers, both panting from the exertion. And then.. someone began to clap. It spread, someone else whistling at the show. And Katt.. Katt looked into those golden eyes, and saw _him_ look at her again, hand idly plucking the stunner barbs out of his coat, his gaze flicking over her, again, replaying the fight in his head from the looks of it, remembering how she'd moved – and this time, she could see a very distinct _approval_ in there. She returned the look with one of her own – she'd never seen a man his size move with such an effortless, instinctive, near-_animal _grace before.

"Thank you, thank you!" Katt called out to the patrons around them, grinning widely, waving a little – just enough calculated spring in her motions to make the cheers double in volume. "We're happy to entertain! And please," she nudged one of the thugs with her boot-tip, getting a groan out of him, "The losers foot the bill." She gave Skye a knowing look, a smile growing on her muzzle. "As for you," she purred, "I think you and I can.. _help_ each other out."

The male looked at her for a little bit more, giving her a distinctly canine cock of his head, startling gold eyes inscrutable.. before softening up a little, the fox smiling and nodding. A little part of her cheered deep inside – oh, this was going to be _fun._ "Let's head out of here, handsome," she grinned. "The atmosphere got kind of ruined." Though the fight _had_ gotten her blood pumping – and she wasn't the only one. A part of her was almost sure Skye's fur and eyes hadn't been quite so clear and shiny in hue the moment she'd met him. Shaking her head, she smiled and stepped after him.. and her boot bumped into something that clattered on the floor.

"Huh." She paused and bent down to retrieve the stunner the weasel'd pulled on Skye. "That's odd," she murmured to herself, examining the thing, "What kind of an idiot loads a stunner with an empty charge pack..?"


	4. Preparations

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and warnings_

_**Star Fox Odium**_

_**Chapter 4 - Preparations**_

* * *

For the third time this night, Krystal stopped to check the calendar in her day planner, willing the markings to change.

As usual, the glowing numbers – in particular, the row of days marked a bright red on her personal schedule – refused to budge.

_Can't be helped, _she finally sighed, shaking her head and putting the thing away – lifting a paw to press the command panel for the bulkhead ahead. _Poor timing, but we all have to make sacrifices.. _

_Biometric identification required_

The hum of the ship was a quiet, soothing background drone around her, ROB's synthesized voice echoing from a tiny speaker.

"Krystal of Cerinia, voice authorization Krystal-Alpha-Seven-Three-Zero-Zero-Gamma."

The little palm reader hummed, a soft green-white glow playing over the outline of her pawprint. Status lights flickered for a moment, then flashed an uniform green.

_Biometric analysis – match. Voiceprint authorization - granted. Armory - unlocked._

A series of loud, metallic _clunks_ rang out, multiple locks opening themselves somewhere deep within the thickly plated blast door, before it finally slid aside with a low _whoosh _of equalizing pressure. Dry air rushed at her, tickling at Krystal's fur as she padded inside, ceiling lights lighting one by one with soft crackling noises.

It'd been a while since Krystal'd been in the second-most heavily secured room in the _Great Fox – _the most secure being the Arwing launch/maintenance bays a deck below. She hadn't really seen the need – and a little part of her, once again, found herself wondering just what did a handful of people need so many guns for.

Neatly organized ranks of blaster pistols, helmets, flightsuits and light body armor, in various sizes and makes in the latter case, spanned the length of the room, sealed crates of charge packs, grenades, and slug clips stacked close by. As she padded among the racks, the guns turned bigger – machine guns, seeker launchers, and others. A row of heavily-armored windows – battleship-grade transparencies, closer to transparent steel than glass – gave a view of the hangar bays down below, sleek arrowhead Arwings sitting in their holding berths, the bulky shape of the Land Master looming a little further away. Little flashes of metallic motion flickered occasionally between the vehicles – a number of ROB's maintenance drones, never ceasing in their duties.

Krystal ignored it all, her sandal-clad paws nearly silent on the deckplates as she headed to her own little corner of the armory. It wasn't big – but then again, it didn't need to be. An old-fashioned weapons rack, amounting to little more than a pair of padded hooks mounted on the wall, a familiar long, gold-gleaming shape waiting in it. Beside it, a mannequin (she wasn't sure just which one of the boys had had the bright idea of painting the thing a blue to near-perfectly match her own fur, and to be fair she didn't really care, either, they all had insane senses of humor when they felt like it) stood silently, engraved metal shining on its legs, lower arms, and shoulders. A familiar tiara and necklace winked and shone upon its breast and brow.

Smiling softly, the vixen reached out a hand, gently running her fingers over the smooth curve of a pauldron – it felt warm to her touch, like she'd taken it off only just a moment ago.

"Where did you come from?" she murmured softly, her tail flicking, dextrous fingers working the buckles loose from the mannequin. The armor pieces and her staff were the only tangible remnants of her past she had left – a part of an occasionally frustrating mystery. A little shiver worked its way down her spine when she remembered seeing the original Great Fox shatter against the Aparoid world-shield – if she hadn't forgotten to unpack them from her Arwing's cargo pod before that mission, if they'd been in the armory then – she'd have lost them, too.

Shaking her head, Krystal pulled up a seat before finding herself a few soft cloths, some oil, and polish – a soft hum under her breath as she let her hands set to work, gently, carefully working glistening oil into every nook and cranny on the metal plating, letting the leather straps soften a little by seeping it up. She'd neglected doing this for long enough, too long, in fact – in her defense, she hadn't used either her staff or her armor for a long, long time, either. Civilized Cornerians tended to give people carrying or wearing big hunks of steel around odd looks. Or whatever they were made of, in this case – the alloy wasn't gold, but shone almost like it, much lighter and stronger than steel..

Slippy'd been positively stymied by the stuff, she recalled. And when one took account to what her staff could do – he'd almost seemed to take it personally that what should, to all intents and purposes, be inert metal seemed to treat the laws of physics more like guidelines at times.

It was almost frustrating, Krystal thought, sliding her fingers along the intricate carvings. Just as large a mystery to her as to Slippy. How did she know how to maintain them? How did they work? And where, most importantly, had she gotten them? Closing her eyes, she could almost feel it, a warm set of arms around her, guiding her hands in their motions.. had her father taught her? Or her mother? Or both? The metal felt _old_ to her, so very old – a faint psychic _impression_, for lack of a better term, on them, a sensation of dozens of hands before hers that'd held them and cared for them before, just like she did now. Veritable heirlooms, passed from bearer to bearer.. Had some of those hands belonged to her parents? There was no way to tell.. but she liked to think so. It made her feel like they were still with her, in a way.. still protecting her.

Shaking her head, a wistful smile on her muzzle, Krystal wiped off the last of the oil, the metal shining with a warm, lustrous gleam, showing her reflection among the carvings.. before slowly, methodically, she began to fit them over herself once more.

It felt a little like coming home.

* * *

"_Go! Go! Go!"_

Screams, roars and groans filled the air, the clash of metal on metal, the wet smack of flesh on flesh and the crack of breaking bone. Smoke, blood, and ozone, thick in his nose. Smoke stung in his eyes. And above it all, a mad chorus of whooping, chirping, screaming and wailing klaxons, alarms and bells – including some _every_ spacer learned to fear. _Reactor breach. Radiation leak. Critical loss of atmosphere in-progress._

And the most frightening thing about that was that only they seemed to _care_. Beside him, Leon grunted with effort, half-supporting, half-dragging Panther's weight – the latter groaning in pain every few motions. And Wolf himself – he heard a sound approaching them and _spun_ with instinct, the rapid _crack!-crack!-crack!_ of his blaster drowning out other sounds for a moment.

By principle – technically, they'd done nothing wrong, and there was no sense in racking up a bounty if they could avoid it – they'd initially avoided the use of lethal force, just working their way past (and occasionally through) the brawls, heading for the docking bays and the Wolfen. The first part had flown right out of the airlock when a supposed salvage tech had damn near gutted Panther with a hull slicer. Kill or be killed – and none of them intended to die in a floating pile of junk!

For the umpteenth time that night, Wolf wondered at just what point had his life turned into a B-grade horror flick. All over the station people were fighting, mostly each other – but they weren't picky. Once, they'd slipped past a bear, screaming incoherently at his reflection in a polished bulkhead – the metal smeared with blood from his broken knuckles. He hadn't seemed to notice them, thankfully. Friends and lovers were turning on one another, rivals turning into screaming berserkers, clustering up in little groups that charged anyone who got too close – Security'd tried stomping down on them, in the beginning. A lot of them had gotten killed by the ensuing bloodthirsty mobs. And some.. some'd started screaming and _joined in._

"How far.. to the bays?" Leon grunted again with effort, shifting, almost stumbling – Panther made a low yowling noise of pain, the black-furred feline's tail puffing up. The makeshift bandages wrapped around his side were already stained with blood – they needed to get out of there, and fast.

"Down the corridor, second blast door to the left!" Another noise, a scream, the sound of many footsteps heading their way – Wolf's blaster rose again and spoke thrice, _crack!-crack!-crack!_, spitting plasma bolts into the mob that rounded the corner. Three figures stumbled, went down – still twitching as the rest trampled over them.

Security, civilian, medic, rescue tech, thug, damage control – it didn't matter. It was.. it was like somebody'd flipped a switch and turned _everyone_ into a psychopath. As soon as they lay eyes on you, or each other – they'd drop everything else and just scream and charge. At first, dazzlers had worked to a point, but it just kept getting worse – it was like they stopped feeling pain at a point, keeping at it until physically unable to.

At least, when they went down, they _stayed _down.. so far. Zombies, Wolf felt, growling as he tried to keep the mob at bay, would've been just the perfect cap to an already cruddy week. They were burning through his charge packs faster than they could recharge, already!

_Clunk-clunk-clunk-hiss-whhhooooooo_

The sound of an opening bulkhead had never been so beautiful. Nor had the view beyond – the shimmer of the atmo-shield blocking away the cold, star-studded void of space, the flicker and flare of emergency lights gleaming on the pointed arcs and curves of their Wolfens.

"Honey, we're home," Wolf muttered under his breath, hitting the toggle for the door with his palm – and then swearing when the mechanism emitted an unpleasant grinding noise and a shower of sparks, sticking halfway through the closing cycle. No shutting the door, then not without heavy tools and time they didn't have, the mob not too far behind –

"Leon, your ride's the closest. I'll get Panther to his 'pit while you get ready to burn dust."

Panther groaned as Leon shouldered the feline over to Wolf, and again when the lupine got a good grip on him. Through the wail of klaxons and alarms and the rising whine of the Wolfen's power plant warming up behind them, it took Wolf a few moments and about as many steps to realize there were words in the sound. Half-lidded feline yellow eyes, hazed with pain, flashed at him from among the panther's blue-black fur.

"What?" Alright, it wasn't the most intelligent of retorts but damned if he'd caught the feline's words.

"Got t' leave me, Boss," Panther rasped at him, punctuating it with a grunt of pain as a distant explosion shook the deck under their feet, making them sway with it. "Go, while.. nh! While you.. can.."

Wolf blinked his good eye, stopping for a brief moment. Then, he growled. "We," he pointed out, a soft warning rumble in his voice, "dragged your tail through half the damned hab-block to get you here. And you want me.. to leave you here? Out of the question, soldier." Behind them, he could hear wordless shouting, growls and grunts – getting closer. If the blast door had just shut like it was supposed to..!

"We're a damned _team_, Caroso," Wolf snarled, trying to pick up the pace. "And I'm not leaving one of _mine.._ to be torn apart by these psychos. So suck it up.. and _move_ your ass.. or I'm going to kick it from here to Corneria as soon as you get out of the hospital..!"

Panther groaned again, trying to get his feet more under himself instead of Wolf having to pretty much bodily haul him – but the lupine was pretty much sure the noise he'd made between groans was laughter. At least, Wolf thought to himself dryly as he shouldered the feline towards his fighter – why did it have to be the one furthest from the entry? – he had his spirits left. Pushing him _up_ to the bubble canopy and from there into the cockpit was interesting, of course – the noises the feline made when his side was jarred were painful – but finally, Panther was safe in his fighter, the canopy sealing, a low, resonant hum starting in the heart of the Wolfen as systems began to warm up.

"Leon, Panther's strapped in," Wolf muttered into his comlink, heading for his own ride. "Let me get to the Wolfen. I'll slave his controls to mine and we'll blow this-" A flash of motion at the door caught his eye, a figure standing in the gap of the door. Feral eyes flashed at him, right before it threw its head back and _screamed._

A chorus of hoarse shrieks and calls answered the sound.

"Oh, _crap."_

Wolf broke into a run towards his ride – and towards the blast doors. The figure – fur and outfit so matted with dust, grime, blood and unrecognizable stuff, Wolf didn't even try and recognize the species – took off his way. His friends, rounding the corner with bloodthirsty glee, screaming and hissing at each other as they tried to squeeze in through the gap in the doors, followed a few steps behind him. And Wolf.. _almost_ made it.

Wolf's Wolfen was sitting about midpoint the way from Panther's to the door – so Wolf and the mob met pretty much at the nose of his ride. The first one, the one who'd drawn the mob to them, met the brunt of Wolf's reinforced gloves and went down, hard. The rest of them, unfortunately, weren't as obliging. Fists, boots, the butt of his blaster, his combat knife – Wolf held back no punches, and for a good reason. He could almost _feel_ it, a raging nervous energy that suffused the mob, egging them on, filling the air with a scent like burnt metal – blows that would've winded most people, or had them more interested in counting their remaining teeth than fighting, hardly even phased them. And Wolf – Wolf'd spent the last hour running for dear life with the rest of his team. He was tough as old boots, sure, but there was only so much pure adrenaline could do.

He kicked out, feeling a kneecap crunch under his combat boot, fist smashing in a screaming muzzle. He fought, clawed, kicked, headbutted, _bit_ - pulled on every dirty, underhanded, painful trick he could think of and made up a few on the fly – called on every bit of adrenaline and energy and pure sheer stubborn _will not die here_ –

A heavy impact at the back of his skull, purple-green stars and blotches filling his eyes. Darkness.

He came to with his back against the cold metal floor, the taste of blood on his lips, a heavy weight on his chest. His bionic chirred and whined, struggling before snapping to focus, letting him look up at his executioner.

She shouldn't have been there. Not this slip of an unassuming, fuzzy-furred slip of a mixed-canine _girl_ – she should've been home, with her parents, worrying about school or boys or whatever kids her age worried about these days. Not straddling his chest, clothes torn and soiled, a crazed light in her eyes – blood oozing down from a cut on her cheek, that wild, savage snarl revealing red pits where something had knocked teeth out. Not here, anywhere but at the head of a bloodthirsty feral mob.

"_Odium reigns," _she hissed, lifting a jagged shard of deck plating, both ends stained with blood – from where it cut into her palm and far more ominous, extensive smears on its more pointy end.

"Get bent," Wolf spat –winking his good eye three times.

Somantic feedbacks built into synthetic nerve uplinks triggered. Power cells discharged. A whine built in his skull, the view of his bionic going dark. A spark, as capacitors charged and released – and the holdout laser pulsar built into it went off. In less than the a heartbeat, there was a brief flash as a short laser pulse flashed against her chest, right under the swell of her breasts, vaporizing a minute volume of fabric, fur and skin into plasma – barely enough to qualify as sunburn-

A microsecond later a second, more powerful pulse flashed, energizing the still-expanding plasma puff, and detonated the whole thing with a rippling _'crack!'. _ She jerked, eyes widening in surprise, the shard clattering from her hand to the deckplates. A little whimpering gasp of surprise slipped from her muzzle.

_Kill or be killed,_ Wolf thought.. but couldn't quite muster the vehemence for it, pushing her away from himself – thankfully to the left, his bionic dark, its power spent, making it easier to not look at the crumpled form, now mostly blind on that side. The implant was whining softly as it struggled to build a charge, uncomfortably hot in its socket inside his skull.

An angry, feral, bloodthirsty moan rose from a dozen throats around him as Wolf struggled to his feet, spitting out a wad of blood.

"Who's next?"

A fist rose. A second, third, fourth – here a club, another clutching a jagged shard of metal, a fire axe there..

There was a rapid warning _click-click-click_ in his comms earpiece, a rising hum building into a resonating roar to the side. Somehow, Wolf found the energy to toss himself to the side, hugging the deckplates –

The world became emerald thunder.

* * *

Her new friend, Katt soon discovered, came with a set of issues all his own.

She'd known he wasn't from around central Lylat – but she hadn't expected him to be _primitive_.. or well, from a less-developed world, either way. 'Primitive' implied that he'd be dressed in animal pelts and go 'grunt, rrrr' – though honestly, pseudo-medieval wasn't that big of a stretch from there. He had guts, that much she had to give him credit for– she wasn't sure if she would've dared to step on a ship and head off into the great unknown when the thing with most moving parts he'd seen on his homeworld had, in his words, been.. a windmill. A little part of her wondered how, exactly, he'd persuaded the captain of the _Wayfarer_ to pick him up in the first place – but he got.. evasive, when questioned there.

At least, she found herself thinking, a wry smile on her muzzle as she clacked her way through the _Katt's Paw's_ support corvette, at least Skye had a healthy dose of common sense when it came to high tech – namely, he didn't go poking around where he shouldn't. The light came on or the door opened or whatever when he pushed the button, and that was enough for him – she'd been half afraid that the fox would think the _Katt's Paw_ was a metal monster or something. He was learning fast, too, clearly putting himself to it – far from a dumb savage.

That was the good news. The bad news.. Katt sighed a little as she peered through the door into the _Big Kitty's_ 'mess hall'. The _Katt's Paw_ was far, far too small to hold an FTL core – the base _Invader III _design was intended to function with a support carrier, after all. So, to get around the system she'd either need to hitch a ride on a carrier of some sort – which were way too conspicuous for her needs, especially on the fringes of the cluster – or use a support ship of her own.

Enter the _Big Kitty_, a retrofitted corvette-class tug – as big an engine and drive core as she could physically jam into as small a hull as possible, automated as heavily as she could get away with. It handled like a pregnant rhino and was about as pretty, but it got the job done, letting her do quick FTL hops without going through official channels.. with one problem. All the shielding and support systems for the reactor, FTL core and maneuver drives took up a hefty chunk of the superstructure, let alone the docking point and maintenance hold for the _Katt's Paw - _leaving very little room for things like crew quarters.

In short, it was cramped at the best of times, with just herself – and now, with two people occupying the _Kitty_? It felt downright crowded. Normally Katt would've relished the excuse to be in close quarters with a strong, handsome todd like him – and quite likely spent a good time teasing the hell out of the poor man, kitty needed her entertainment after all – but for one detail.

Skye, she soon discovered, was used to having the wide-open sky above him – feeling the wind in his fur, as he put it, and wasn't that an interesting image? And now, they ended up spending hours, if not days, at a time in a glorified tin can. Bigger habitats with wider areas weren't as much a problem, but the _Kitty_..

Katt sighed a little again, shaking her head, eying the todd. He'd seated himself at the 'mess hall' – really more like a closet with a couple of seats, a small table, and a little cooking niche – his eyes closed, and body sort of tucked into the seat, a little curled up like trying to give himself as much room as possible – it looked like he'd found the widest-open spot in the ship actual to try and doze in, fully clothed. Poor guy – if he wasn't claustrophobic before, these between-stations trips were doing a good job of making him that way.

At least, she allowed herself smile as she padded in a little closer, footfalls quiet on the plates like only a feline could be, at least he was flexible for a guy. She was a _cat_ and she wasn't ashamed to admit that if she'd fallen asleep in that particular position, she'd be waking up with all sorts of stiff spots..

The male's lips shifted in his sleep, a low rumbling noise slipping from his lips. Katt halted in her tracks, ears perking up as his hands moved – fingers opening, then curling halfway as if holding something in his arms. Soft rumbled words slipped from his lips – in a language she didn't recognize, but the sleepy warmth in his tone was unmistakable. Without even meaning to, Katt found a smile growing on her muzzle, cocking her curved hip to lean it against the doorway as she watched – for such a tough guy, he looked plain _adorable._

She must've made some sound without intending to, or maybe the hum of the ship changed enough – but as quickly as it'd started, those motions changed a little, a flash of gold as the todd's eyes opened, a drowsy look In them – like he was looking somewhere miles beyond the bulkhead Katt was leaning on, before swimming into sharper focus on her.

"Morning, stud," Katt purred, flicking her tail with a smile. "Had a nice dream?"

"Morning.. nrrrrrrr.." Skye flexed, strong muscles shifting under his azure pelt and dark leather in ways that Katt very much appreciated. Sharp teeth flashed, long canid tongue curling between them as he yawned. "Of better times," he confessed with a nod, ears tilting a little at her words – Katt enjoyed finding new words to tease him with. Like 'stud', in this case.

"Better times, or better people?" the feline smirked slyly, swaying her way from the wall to a free seat and reclining in it like only a kitty could. "Looked like you were thinking of someone special to me," she teased. "Must be _very_ special, with a man like you. Did you leave a sweetheart back home? A girlfriend, maybe?"

"A mate.. wife, is the word?," Skye rumbled, shifting in his seat a little, then paused for a moment. Something on her face must've shown – she sternly told herself she wasn't _disappointed_ – because the male's ears shifted, those golden eyes sharpening a little as he looked at her. "Sorry to disappoint," he finally churred – and damned if there wasn't a teasing tone in that deep rumble. "I think she likes – _would like_ you, for what it's worth.."

"Oh, it's alright," she waved a paw, smiling at the tease – like any cat, she landed right back on her feet. "Should've known someone would've nabbed a man like you already.. lucky, lucky girl. Whoever she is." Her eyes sparked a little as she leaned back in her seat, curiosity sufficiently piqued. "How're you telling me about her only now?" she teased. "I didn't take you for a family man. Got any more surprises in store for me? A litter of kits waiting for Daddy to come back home?"

Skye's had a wistful smile of sorts on his muzzle, softening his features – but the moment those last words left her muzzle, those ears folded right back from their relaxed position, his muzzle tightening up, a little rough _grower_-noise resonating in his chest. Immediately, Kat knew she'd found a sore spot without even trying.

"A time and place for everything," Skye rumbled lowly, "And now.. we have more important things to speak of." he paused a little, lush tail twitching beside the foot of his seat. "Tell me of this man you hunt for.. this.. 'Timmins'?"

As far as changes of subject went, it wasn't subtle – but Katt knew better than to push. The relaxed atmosphere they'd sat in was gone – here was Serious Skye again, all angled and tense. Katt was reminded of a hunting dog waiting for the 'Go!' command – she so much wanted to ask more, but knew better than keep poking at him. Later, she promised herself. Later.

"Machelys Temminck," she murmured, shaking her head – the name tasted bitter on her tongue, as memories popped up. "He was.. How much do you know about the Venom Wars, Skye?"

"Not much," the male admitted with a rumble, leaning forwards in his seat. Golden eyes had fixed on her – intense, laser-sharp, attentive. Katt fought to suppress a little shiver racing down her spine. "I did not have the time to study history on the _Wayfarer_. And most of the language, the words, were.. beyond me."

"..Alright." Her ears drooped a little – she'd hoped that she wouldn't have to explain things too in-depth, but.. Shaking her head, she pushed the thought away and fished up a padd from her pocket, setting the little device on the table.

"This.. is Zoness." A flick of her fingers had an image turn up on the screen as Skye leaned in for a look – the blue sphere of an ocean planet, fans and whirls of clouds shifting slowly across the sapphire orb.

"It's got very little land mass – the superocean is so deep, all the land is broken up in islands and some larger island chains. Nine tenths of the surface is water. It orbits Solar just close enough to keep the climate at a pretty much permanent tropical state – there's no winter at all. It's always summer on Zoness." Pictures of lush, green-gleaming islands, silver-white sands and deep blue waves came up, dotted with the occasional gleaming silver spire of a resort or hotel. Brightly colored songbirds and flocks of gleaming, multicolored fish played in the air and the sea.

"I used to live there, actually, before the War," Katt smiled, letting herself slip into more fond memories. "It was beautiful. It.. It was a resort planet back then. People from all over the system would come there to relax – my father ran a hotel. I loved it there." She sighed a little, shaking her head. "Didn't get much studying done. A young woman like me, in a year-round resort city? I went to my classes just enough to pass my grades, then headed out to the beach.. any beach, there were lots. Hot sand under my paws, the scent of sea in my nose.. I'd swim and dive and surf, and when the evening came I'd find a party-house. Find a cute guy to tease, dance until the sun came up.. crash into bed, happy and sore, and sleep way past noon. Just to do it again the next day."

"You? I would not ever have imagined," Skye put in with a soft snort, eyes gleaming with a faint teasing gleam.

"Hush, you," Katt giggled, shaking her head. "I was young and stupid back then – but I had the time of my life.." She paused, then sighed. "Pity it didn't last."

Her fingers found the controls again – pausing for a moment, before she sighed and depressed the button. The paradise pictures faded away – replaced by a sickly-colored orb hanging in the black of space, looking for all the world like a swollen, infected tumor. Oceans the color of spoiled pea-soup roiled under clouds of rust-red and sulphur-yellow. A pustule in free-fall – a planet-sized boil.

"And this.. is Zoness after the War," Katt whispered – Skye stiffened opposite her, golden eyes blinking in surprise. "Corneria Enviromental Foundation classifies it as a class-B deathworld – incapable of supporting life on its own, and actively hazardous to most forms of life," she clarified at the male's questioning look. Between them, the images shifted – islands covered in ruins of rusting metal and hacked-down forests. The skeleton of some great fish, washed up on a shore steaming with poison, rusted barrels bobbing up and down in the surf.

"Zoness, most of its year, spends its orbit relatively close to Venom," she explained, voice low. "It's.. it used to be, a resort planet. Very little defenses - what need was there? It was just resorts. No military targets or anything.. but then, the Venom Wars started." She sighed. "My parents packed us all on a shuttle out to Katina so fast I thought I'd left my tail behind. Good thing they did, too."

"I.. can tell." There was a look on Skye's face she hadn't seen before – eyes so sharp as they flicked over the images of rust and ruin on the little viewscreen. All this time, there'd been little that could surprise him – like he'd seen it all – but now.. if the memories weren't so raw, she might've found a measure of victory in finally finding something to hit home."How did.. how can this _happen_ to a..?"

"A planet? An entire world? Because Andross," she rolled the name flatly off her tongue. "All those armies of his – hundreds, thousands of troops, fighters, battleships – they all needed fuel and weapons and resources. Zoness was very, very rich in undersea resources – ores, oil, geothermal vents – but we couldn't access it. Wouldn't because of the Cornerian Treaty – Zoness was paradise world, and we intended to keep it that way. One of the richest, most diverse ecosystems in the whole cluster. And Andross.. he wanted it. Took it. _Used_ it."

"His first move in the War," she explained, "Was to take Zoness. We.. weren't prepared. They came out of nowhere. So many ships, so many troops – there just wasn't a chance. And then his machines got to work." A disgusted looks twisted her muzzle, her tail half-fluffed up. "He strip-mined the whole planet, Skye. Undersea mining complexes. Oil rig clusters the size of small continents. Geothermal taps, belching smoke and sulfur and – the cheapest, most effective machines. Pouring all that poison and filth and waste right into the ocean. Poisoning a whole planet to churn out machines and weapons to attack the rest of the system with."

"Zoness was Paradise," she whispered, remembering the days of her youth. "And now it's Hell. The air – the _air_ is toxic. Breathe it without a filter mask, you'll be crippled for life. Just a minute without a totally bio-sealed suit, your fur's going to shed right off. A dip in the ocean will eat the flesh off your bones. Whole currents are so full of nuclear waste, you can see the glow from orbit in nighttime. There's practically zero life at all – whatever's left are mutated monsters, tough enough to withstand the poisons. Society's pouring millions every year into undoing the damage, but it'll never be the planet it used to. And Machelys Temminck.. is the man who made it all happen."

Sky's eyes shifted up from the padd to hers, a little uncertain rumble in the back of his throat. Katt could feel a familiar lump in her throat, the tingle in her eyes, but shook her head and stiffened her lip. _You're a big girl by now. It's long past._

"Temminck," Katt clarified, "was the man Andross put in charge of planetary infrastructure. Every factory, every mine, every rig – he approved and directed it all. He turned out to be a master of squeezing out every little bit of worth he could from the whole planet – and wiping out the rest. There.." She shivered. "Some people didn't get off the planet before the War started," she whispered. "Near as we can tell, he worked them to death, building all that. Cheaper and more efficient than ransoming them off, or imprisoning them – just a _resource_ he burned off along with the rest."

"This.. Andross, was defeated," Skye rumbled, tail flicking, ears canted thoughtfully. "But Temminck remained?"

"I spent most of the War fighting on Zoness – I actually snuck onto one of their factory-bases and stole one of their prototype fighters," Katt smirked. Fond memories of that fight popped up, of the feeling of victory surging though her veins as she let what'd later become the _Katt's Paw_ zip and flick and weave through laser and flak, jammers screaming their electronic battlecall on all channels, thrusters howling – it'd been a rush like no dancefloor had ever given her. And she owed all that to a certain avian renegade ace who'd taught her the skills she'd needed. Getting into bad company had never been so _good_ for her. "I tried, Skye. I got out as many people as I could, wrecked and burned all I got my paws on – but he slipped away from me. And prospered."

"I told you all that," she whispered, closing the padd, "So you know what kind of a man he is. He's ruthless, with no morals or scruples – everything is a resource, a tool, or an obstacle to him. After the war – he used the money and influence he managed to get from Zoness to make himself a crime-lord, one of the largest in the system. Extortion, murder, narcotics, smuggling, slavery -" Skye snarled lowly at that word, fur fluffing up, "Yes, slavery, it's well-hidden but happens - he's like a parasite on the rest of Lylat. He's hiding somewhere on the Rim, I think, no-one but his closest men knows exactly where. Police won't help – he's got an army of thugs and ex-military, and there's no telling who's in his pocket and who's not."

Without meaning to, she found her paws reaching out, looking Skye straight in the eye and giving a squeeze – tail flicking happily as she saw the gleam in his eyes, felt him squeezing right back. His heart might've been someone else's – but she'd stoked his warrior spirit, she thought, and that was all she really needed.

"We're hunting a man who ravaged and killed an entire planet," she told him, her eyes caught by the gleam in his fierce golden ones. "Help me, Skye – help me bring him to justice, help me _hurt_ him, make him _bleed_ for me, for my home, for all those people – and I'll do everything I can to help _you._"


	5. Encounter

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and warnings_

_**Star Fox Odium**_

_**Chapter 5 - Encounter**_

* * *

A moment of _distortion, _an eerie feeling of disconnection, streams of strange images - silvery mists lit by cold distant starlight, vast alien shapes stirring in the depths – and then, a _jolt_ as the _Great Fox_ translated itself back into realspace – and right underneath a Xechek dreadnought.

"_Evasive action!" _Fox didn't have to think about it – it came as an instinct, a command and warning, his hands gripping the manual guidance controls on his command chair and _twisting – _the _Great Fox _was responding so slowly, rerouting power from their FTL core back into other systems - Proximity alarms blared to frantic, noisome life, their shrill _whooooop_ and ROB's electronic chatter while he hooked up to local flight control not _quite_ drowning Falco's startled curse under themselves.

What looked like a mountain of scalloped, curved, yellow-green-brown armor plate, studded with flaring thrusters and proudly jutting gunports – some of them were _really damn big_, a part of Fox's mind distantly noted – glided its way past the main bridge viewport, close enough that Fox was fairly sure he could've chucked a _rock_ at them and had it go 'ping!' off their plating. Under his paws, the deck shook and rumbled - the _Great Fox_ rocking as maneuvering thrusters _finally _came online, Fox struggling with the yokes to angle them just barely off a collision course.

"Holy stars above," Peppy breathed out as they slowly slid out of the dreadnought's shadow, "Look at the _size_ of that thing.."

"Estimated length tops out at about seven hundred meters," Slippy chimed in from his station, the glare of multiple monitors reflected off moist amphibian skin, "And the readings I'm getting off their armor, just _whoa_.."

"Are we scanning them?" Fox snapped, ears perking up as he glanced again at the warship above them.

"Just a little low-level peek," the toad muttered somewhat defensively. "Not enough to penetrate most of their shielding, anyhow. And.. they're having a look at us, too."

"Let them. We're not here to fight." Fox eyed the hulking vessel and the sizeable weapons mounted on it somewhat apprehensively. Gauss drivers – slugspitters, he recalled from the tactical briefing he'd browsed through as part of the 'orientation package'. Their accuracy would be plain garbage at long ranges, but up this close? All the _Great Fox_'s armor and hull superstructure probably wouldn't even noticeably slow down a tungsten superalloy slug traveling at a considerable fraction of _c_ if some jumpy gunner decided to take a potshot at them..

Slippy's response drowned in a hollow _hiss_ of hydraulics as the bridge doors slid open. Fox looked up, craning his head to take a look – and felt his jaw drop.

"I.. don't sense any malice from them," Krystal announced, a soft smile on her face as she padded onto the bridge.

Her cerulean fur was well-groomed, looking soft and silky, a healthy lustrous gleam suffusing it and her hair – the latter brushed back into a braided pony-tail snaking its way down over one shapely shoulder. A radiant off-white, almost opalescent dress shifted over supple limbs and pleasantly rounded shapes as she walked right past the command seat, leaning her hands on the bridge railing and looking up at the dreadnought with a look Fox had long-since learned to connect with her reaching out with her talents – focused, while still oddly hazy, as if trying to peer over miles and miles of distance..

"I can feel them all the way from here," Krystal whispered softly, rich, lush tail flicking – Fox couldn't help the way the limb drew his eye, a pearl-decorated sash wrapped around the middle of it. Gold shone softly – she was wearing her armor over her dress, the engraved metal's luster shining against the pearly white of her dress and her cerulean fur. "All those minds.. they're like tiny jewels.."

The first time Fox had laid eyes on her, she'd been a savage – fierce, proud, exotic. With them, she'd become a teammate – skilled, confident, competent. Now – now she was a Lady, capital letter completely deserved. Refined, serene, graceful – a little smile on her muzzle as she peered up at the alien vessel outside, eyes shining, a look of joyful awe of sorts on her face – and, a little part of Fox couldn't help but think, about the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen..

Suddenly, Fox realized the shift in the general atmosphere of the bridge – sure, ROB was still chattering away in binary at his booth, the dreadnought dominating the viewscreen – but, glancing around, he could see that Peppy was giving him that sly, near-paternal look of his, clearly amused – Slippy was a little bit _too_ focused on his readings, and Falco – the avian was grinning around his beak, Fox was sure of it, a faint mutter of what sounded suspiciously like '_Lucky sod_' drifting into his ears. Even Krystal, feeling the change she'd caused, paused to glance over her shoulder – a little knowing smile growing on her muzzle, a twinkle in her eye as she looked back at Fox. _Of course_ she knew what she did to him, she _was_ an empath after all.

_I don't have wingmen, _Fox thought with a low growl, _I have lunatics._

He got a blink for that from Krystal – as close as they were, he knew she must've 'heard' that – before being rewarded with an amused smile that made her whole face light up, the hand that rose to cover her muzzle not quite hiding the soft snicker drifting into his ears. Fighting a smile of his own, Fox coughed, resolutely trying to ignore her scent – just a little whiff of perfume, accenting her own natural, sweet feminine fragrance.. and did it smell _good_ today– opening his muzzle-

Whatever retort he was about to make died with a surprisingly melodic chime from ROB's corner of the bridge.

"Receiving hail from Xechek dreadnought, designation _Bloodied Petals_." ROB, of course, was blissfully ignorant of the byplay – either that, or ignoring it like only an AI lacking any concept of hormones could. "Respond?"

"Pipe them through, ROB," Fox rumbled, reclining back into his seat. At least _one_ of them could focus when they needed to..

Fox wasn't quite sure what he should've expected – perhaps insectoid chirping? A buzz like a beehive? Clacking mandibles and hissing? Instead, the sound that came through the open comms – it sounded suspiciously like an oddly modulated organ solo, a resonant, melodic series of flute-like whistles and hums – overlaid with strange warbling, clicking croon.

"_Her Majesty's imperial warship _Bloodied Petals,_ hailing unidentified Lylat cruiser."_The translation matrix, of course, couldn't convey emotion – but somehow the simulated voice managed to sound peeved. _"Submit identification code and state your intent in-sector. Maintain your current heading and acceleration. Fail to comply and you may be fired upon."_

With that – he could feel the bridge falling back into focus, Peppy at his tactical database, Slippy at his sensor station – Falco, gunnery controls active but not primed.. Krystal at the center of it all, their metaphysical seeing eye, lovely features focused as she did her best to peer straight through the other ship's plating.

Stars, Fox loved it when the team came together like this. They might've been a bunch of basket cases, the lot of them, but they were _his_ misfits and lunatics.

"Cheerful guy," Fox muttered to himself, careful to keep his voice low enough to not trigger their transmitter, ears twitching at the soft roll of chuckles through their bridge – eying Krystal, focused on a question, and getting a little shake of her head back. No active threat – either a standard challenge, then, or someone was venting some.

Not that Fox could blame the poor sucker at the other end of the link. They'd come literally tens of meters away from giving _Petals_ an interesting new hull ornament. On a capital ship scale, that was a paint-scraping margin.

"_Bloodied Petals, _this is Lylat carrier-cruiser _Great Fox,_ designation code Theta-Gamma-Phi-Zero-Zero-Two. Carrying Lylat mercenary unit Team Star Fox on diplomatic mission." Fox's fingers found the memory chip General Pepper had sent them via courier -plugging it into a socket on the arm of his command chair and hitting the 'transmit' key. "Transmitting credentials now."

Lights played over the crystalline chip, ROB's binary chatter resuming as the data-file was decoded and sent over – where it went through a similar process on the Xechek computers. Fox found himself tensing unconsciously, fingering the helm controls – of course their credentials were legit, but a little bit of interference or a systems incompatibility at the right point, and they might find themselves neck-deep in the middle of a bout of 'aggressive diplomacy'..

He could see Krystal relaxing a heartbeat before he saw it on the viewscreen, a shift of muted gray and green metal – the dreadnought's guns were still active and revealed, but they were no longer actively tracking them.

"_Credentials successfully verified, _Great Fox. _Welcome to the sector._" There was a pause from the other end of the link, and then – the tones of the piping sounds from the comms changed some – what emotion might've been behind them, Fox had no idea. Sometimes, he envied Krystal a little.

"Great Fox, _be advised. _Bloodied Petals _commander suggests exercising more caution when entering the jump point perimeter."_

_Translation, _Fox thought wryly, _Watch where you jump in._

"Wait one,_ Bloodied Petals.." _Fox paused long enough to call up the navigation logs on his console, browsing through the relevant numbers briefly. "_Bloodied Petals, _we show our jump point entry formation being within normal scatter radius for a vessel of our mass and the distance traveled." At the extreme edges of it, but still, that was within norms. Fox paused for a moment, mulling over his words.

"_Bloodied Petals, _we respectfully suggest advising the commander to move your vesselfurther away from the jump point perimeter. Core failsafes guarantee Lylat vessels a safe entry point, but not necessary a safe trajectory window."

Translation, even though the _Great Fox_ wouldn't drop back into realspace in a spot already occupied by another solid object, she wouldn't necessarily _not_ translate into a point right next to something else. And pointed at it. There was a reason other vessels were required to keep a safe distance from designated jump points – especially if the incoming vessel was particularly big or doing an especially long jump. Or might be running on maneuver thrusters while triggering their jump core – inertia was constant, after all, suddenly displaced across the cluster or not.

And, Fox noted but didn't bother pointing out – no sense pointing fingers – their jump had been scheduled. Any Lylat captain wouldn't have gone anywhere near their calculated entry point unless they _had_ to.

"_...Your advice has been noted, _Great Fox," the channel finally hummed. "_New vector locked. _Bloodied Petals, _out."_

"Well now,"Fox murmured as the line went quiet – making use of the time to release control over to the autopilot, queueing up local Flight Control and plotting in an approach course for the diplomatic skydock. "That didn't go too badly."

"We're still in one piece, you mean" Falco muttered. "Must be something in the water there, to make them build so damn _big._"

On the tactical screen, the big yellow triangle marking the _Petals_ was finally settling into a more safe distance, the blue-green orb of an inhabitable planet filling most of the primary viewscreen.. Fox couldn't honestly remember the name of the place. It was one of the many smaller, uncivilized worlds on the rim of the Lylat cluster – in this case, it wasn't the planet itself that interested them, but the diplomatic station built into its orbit, vaguely visible as a spiderlike construction of steel against the backdrop of clouds.

It wasn't the only thing visible, either. Catching a flicker of motion, Fox made a gesture that had the main viewscreen zoom in and focus on them-

More Xechek ships, hanging in neat formation like rows of sleeping insects – sweeping, scalloped shapes of extra armor like wings folded over their segmented shapes, clusters of sensors giving the impression of compound eyes. Rows of maneuvering thrusters and gunports were like legs tucked in close against their forms and spikes protruding from their carapace, gleaming abdomens bulged over and around the shapes of massive primary thrusters and fusion furnaces. Smaller shuttles and escort fighters darted and buzzed around and between them, glittering like a flight of mechanical wasps. And above it all...

"Holy-" Falco breathed out, eyes wide. "They brought their own 'Gate?"

A Xechek ship easily twice as big as the rest of them loomed over them – void-kissed plating faded and scarred, pitted by micrometeorites – old, but no less impressive for it. A row of heavily armored lumps – extra fusion reactors, judging from the readings – gave it the distinct impression of being hunchbacked. A pair of long, reinforced pylons sprouted from its 'shoulders' like wings, reaching up and over its back – a matrix of immaterial, translucent red-orange hexagons playing between them, energy arching between them and the forks. As Fox watched, the field flared, shifted – and spat out a fuel tanker, resembling a giant, fat metal bumblebee as it angled itself to join the fleet.

"They didn't bring it," Slippy chirped, "It was here already-"

The amphibian paused as the rest of the bridge focused on him, green skin darkening momentarily.

"What I mean is," Slippy continued, shaking his head, "It arrived first. Xechek ships," his tongue stumbled a little over the clicking sounds of the name, "They don't have faster-than-light drives, did you know? So they build these huge ships that they stick a hypergate on, and send _that_ out. That ship there, judging from the radiation readings on the hull, it's been traveling here for at least.."

"From before since any of us were born," Krystal finished for Slippy, a little smile on her muzzle. "And now that they got here, they found us. I can't wait to meet them."

"It figures that the two of you would memorize the briefings they sent us," Falco chuckled. He wasn't far off the mark, either, from what Fox had seen. Krystal'd happily spent hours with her nose buried in the datafiles, and he hadn't even seen Slippy for days - except when he made a trip to the mess hall.

"I find it fascinating," Krystal smiled, white-bobbed tail flicking softly. "They're a new people to me, Falco – so different from us, but people. I think we could learn much from them."

"I don't know about you lot, but I for one think I'd enjoy meeting new folks without being shot at," Peppy pointed out, much to the amusement of the rest of them.

Fox, however, found himself eying the frost-scarred behemoth hanging in orbit. He couldn't imagine it – sure, Fox was a spacer himself, spending more time on-ship than on-planet, but.. he always knew that Corneria was only a few days worth of jumps away. These folks had been in that can for decades – it was a sobering thought.

A diplomatic mission, yes, a mission of peace – they wouldn't even need their blasters for anything but show, Pepper had told them. So why were Fox's old instincts screaming at him – instincts that told him to keep their Arwings fueled up and power cells topped off?

* * *

In retrospect, Katt thought, this might not have been the best of her plans.

On paper, it was a solid concept. One of her search daemons had finally gotten a hit, after weeks of processing – a pattern in shipping manifests and supply routes all over the cluster fringes. A crate that just dropped off the routes here, a mislabeled shipment there, somewhere a freighter rejoined its supply convoy with a fraction of its supplies missing – with as much traffic as the Lylat cluster saw regularly, it was expected – unless you knew better. It all added up. Specifically, most of those supplies that were 'misplaced' would end up as contraband merchandise – Temminck had a finger in quite a many pies.

Once she'd figured out which shipments were going to be 'unfortunately misplaced', it was simple enough to find a breaching point – slip in an alteration of her own into the manifests. If supply crates could go randomly missing, it'd be equally reasonable for one extra to pop up – a clerical error, sorry guys, we thought you'd ordered two. Just sign here, OK? I've got a break coming up, you figure it out.

And that was how Katt had ended up stuffed into a reinforced, shielded cargo crate – ostensibly to protect delicate electronics, but in actuality to mask the sensor signature of living bodies and active devices - with nothing for company but a bunch of supplies, a miniature air recycler.. and an increasingly claustrophobic fox.

That was, actually, part of the plan. Use the smugglers' own supply lines to penetrate into their base – their crate was labeled high enough priority that they'd likely end up fairly high along the totem pole – then sneak out. Hack their files to dowload any evidence she could get her paws on – so much that it wouldn't, couldn't be swept under the carpet, no matter how many dirty lawyers the crook had in his pocket – free any of the.. ugh, how she hated the thought.. 'living merchandise' in the area. Last, she'd plant a locator beacon for the authorities to home in on – in the confusion of a surprise crackdown, she could have the _Big Kitty_ do a remote-controlled jump into their coordinates for extraction. Risky, hell yes, but the best shot they'd have..

In fact, the plan had been so perfect, she'd failed to see one glaring flaw in it – shaped suspiciously like a tall, well-built vulpine male. When she'd done the original planning, she'd intended to do it all by herself – recruiting the outworlder had been a moment's impulse. She'd had a gut feeling, she'd followed it – so far, she didn't regret it, either.

What Katt _did_ regret was not considering that when she'd picked the crate to shield and mask, she'd figured it was big enough for herself and some supplies. Not herself, the supplies, and a big fox. A big fox who was already leery of confined spaces. Oh, they fit – if barely. Had had the situation been different Katt would've happily entertained herself by teasing the male, seeing as she was almost curled up in his lap – but..

"If we walk out of this," Katt muttered to herself, ears folded back, "I'm taking you someplace where the streets are wide enough to fly the _Kitty_ through."

It was hot and stuffy in the crate, unlit save for the little screen of her padd and the status lights on their miniature atmospheric recycler – the piece of kit alone took nearly a quarter of the space inside their fancy metal box, another quarter dedicated to a box of supplies – well, honestly, most people would've called it 'ordinance', but eh! Details.

Katt herself was curled up to take as little space as she could, flightsuit-clad tush firmly in Skye's lap – the male seated on what little padding they'd managed to fit in there. His fur was lush and warm where bare fur met – though, as Katt had found out, he needed to learn about the wonders of the fur conditioner. His pelt was so dry it was static-y against hers – she was fairly sure that if she poked him in the muzzle, she'd get a _snap_ of discharge for her troubles. He'd also been snooping through Engineering on _the Kitty, _she thought – his warm, masculine musk (the best natural perfume, in her opinion) overlaid with a faint but noticeable tang of ozone and grit clinging to his fur – sort of like burnt sand and an upcoming thunderstorm. Not really unpleasant per say, but.. definitely not high on her list of likes, either.

Katt, of course, had to crane herself around a little to watch the fox – wincing a little at the look on his face. Eyes squeezed shut, the todd's face was like stone – ears folded flat against his head, the shadows of their little nook giving his features an alien cast -handsome, yes, but sleek and predatory. Every breath made that broad chest hum with a soft rumble. Clearly wound up like a spring..

"How're you feeling, hunk?" Katt whispered, keeping her voice low – craning one of her arms around to try and give him a comforting pat – tail flicking softly as she felt the muscles of his back clench and squeeze rhythmically under her touch. Tense, yeah – people just weren't meant to move like that.

Golden eyes cracked open a tad – making Katt wince again. The look in them – just like cats, foxes could see in the dark – but the discolored light from the recycler's status screens – for a few heartbeats, that faint luminescence in the depths of his eyes had looked scarlet, not pale green.

"Rrrnrrr. Like I've been crammed into an egg," Skye finally rumbled – making Katt blink. No matter what he smelled like, she liked his voice – masculine, deep in the sense that only a few men could pull off. Little bit deeper than usual for a male his size, in fact, but that wasn't a bad thing – couple that with his accent, and she could pretty much feel his voice vibrate in her chest and hum along her bones. Especially as close as they were.

"Funny," she finally purred at him, a little sly, slanted smile on her muzzle. "What does that make us then, hmn? Twins?"

Even in the shadow, Katt could see his eyebrow rising – giving herself a little inwards cheer. If the male had the energy to joke around, he wouldn't be snapping. Yet.

"...I suppose I have seen stranger things," Skye finally rumbled. "Having a clan-sister as yourself, I think, would make sure none of us were bored again.."

Katt couldn't help herself, the little snicker that bubbled to her lips. He'd been so perfectly deadpan – she could appreciate the right sort of a dry wit. Least he had his sense of humor left.

"Just hang in there, alright?" she murmured, checking her padd and patting his shoulder again – feeling that swell and ripple of muscle before it settled back down. "We should be getting there in.. three hours. More than halfway through." She paused for a moment, nibbling on her lower lip.."Tell me about your home?"

"My home?" Black-tipped ears shifted in surprise, a curious look in his golden eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"Hey, I shared before," Katt pointed out, voice dropping into a little teasing purr. "C'mon. I'm curious. A pretty kitty's asking you - I showed you mine, now show me yours?"

Skye probably didn't get the joke, but judging from the flat look she was getting Katt was pretty sure he knew she was pulling his tail _somehow_.

"I'm serious," Katt murmured, rolling her eyes a little. "Doesn't have to be anything personal. It'll help if you think of something that's not in this can, you know."

For a long while, Skye was quiet - almost making Katt think she'd have to tolerate silence for the rest of the trip.. until finally, he opened his muzzle. Katt smiled and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against his shoulder – feeling that warm chest pulse and hum against her back, the soft, deep rasping rumbles of Skye's accent painting her a picture of a little house built on the slopes of a mountain – where a little brook babbled its way past the house, where the winters were cold, summers cool and the stars bright in the sky.. where the wind blew clean and free, playfully tugging at the long, silky mane of a silver-furred vixen as she cared for her little herbal garden.


	6. Friends

_See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and warnings_

_**Star Fox Odium**_

_**Chapter 6 -** **Friends**_

* * *

Stone crumbled under Krystal's paws, her breath catching in her throat. Instinctively she reached a hand out, grasping for support, catching herself – then hissing at the hot sensation, pulling her paw back. Little streaks of scarlet stained the jagged, barbed stone, oozing from cuts in the pad of her palm.

Nursing her paw against her breast, Krystal twitched her tail, glaring at the path before her. A narrow, meandering trail crawled up the craggy side of a mountain – mountain, or volcano. The sky above her rumbled with a distant storm, dark clouds roiling with soot, pregnant with oncoming rain. Spires of jagged, translucent obsidian rose above her, faint wind whistling and humming in razor-edged crevices, her reflection twisted and distorted in the glassy facets. Steam smelling of blood and rotten eggs hissed and bubbled from vents in the cliff, the air thick with the moist, heavy stench of it. Nestles of thick, rugged brambles, studded with moistly dripping thorns as long as her thumb, dotted the landscape in the few places that held life.

She wasn't sure how she'd come to this place – everything was a blur to her. Around her, the trail was narrow and treacherous – shards of jagged lava-glass cut at unwary paws _(Why wasn't she wearing her boots?)_, thorny vines happily tore at her skin and snarled in her fur if she gave them half a chance, rocky gaps blasted gouts of boiling steam _(Her armored, heat-resistant flight suit would've been so very convenient now..)_ – every time she looked back, it seemed like the path back turned into little more than a sheer drop down the mountainside, happy to maul her into a pile of quivering fur if she slipped. On she went, then – the place had to end sometime, didn't it..?

It did, though not how she might've expected. The path ahead turned steeper and steeper, until she was more climbing than walking – grasping onto the least-jagged edges she could find, hauling herself bodily up, acutely aware of spires of jagged stone under her if she fell – and suddenly, a shadow fell over her. The lip of a cave – little more than a jagged crack in stone the color of dried gore. A hot, wet breath of air washed over her, stinking of sulfur and decay – threatening, for a brief moment, to blow her right back over the edge as she fought to clamber in.

She wasn't alone. It was dark – so dark, and quiet, save for the hiss of that foul wind – but instinctively, she knew she wasn't alone in the pit.

"Fox?" she called out, hoping against hope. "Father? Mother?"

Immediately, she felt her own foolishness as the darkness swallowed up her voice. What would Fox be doing here? _(What was she doing here herself, for the matter?) _And her parents.. Wishful thinking. Shaking her head, Krystal steeled herself – and stepped into the shadows.

Reduced into feeling the walls with her hands, she forged on – every step slow and careful, probing the dark as much a she could – straining her eyes to see in the gloom. The darkness was oppressive, all-encompassing, muffling the sounds of her footsteps, her breathing, the very beat of her heart – had it been minutes since she'd slipped into the hole in the cliff? Hours? Days? For one mad moment she thought she'd spend the rest of her life here, crawling deeper and deeper into the heart of the world – and then she felt it, a change in the wall.

Previously, it'd been nothing but warm, rough and jagged stone under her paw. Now – now her fingers had found something – a slender, finger-thick tube, clinging to the wall, warmer to the touch – _snake,_ instinct screamed at her, making her pull away before she realized it wasn't moving. A vine of some sort? Clinging to the wall, feeding on the moisture in the air and minerals in the stone – yes, vine. It had to be.

Shaking her head again, smiling in the dark despite the oppressive atmosphere, Krystal took another slow step forwards, feeling the vines. Another, third, fourth – there were more of them, growing thicker as she traveled down the tunnel –

_closer_

She paused, ears perking up – holding her breath, trying to will her heartbeat to quiet down. Had she just-

_come closer_

Yes! There it was. A voice – the faintest she'd ever heard, on the very edges of her hearing – little more than a breath down the length of the tunnel.

"Hello?" she called into the darkness, picking up the pace – feeling her way down the chasm, deeper and deeper.. "Is there someone there?"

_Yes_

She wasn't just imagining that! There really was someone down there – shaking her head, Krystal tried to open her senses, reach out with her talents, feel for their location – close, so close, but where..?

"Do you need help?" Keep them talking, she thought, get a fix – maybe whoever it was would know a way out of this hellhole. Out of – where _was_ she..?

_Free me_

It was definitely getting stronger now, she realized – just like the vines, now almost as thick as her wrist, covering the walls in a thick, slick carpet covering the stone.. rolling under her paws, forcing her to pick her way across them – if she tripped and broke her leg here, she'd be done for.. Was the voice someone like that? Hurt, trapped, lost? Maybe she could pull them out of her, back outside, outside where there was light and she could figure out a way to set up a signal-

Her hand hit a round, fat bulge in one of the vines, and under her hand – it _shifted_. Rubbery material twisted under her hand – instinctive disgust surging through her, Krystal backed away, cradling her hand-

And looked into a wetly glistening, milky eye on the wall. A fat, bulging, misshapen globe, the interior glowing with a dim, nauseating light, like phosphorescent mold on a rotting log – an eye that looked right _back_ at her, unease flooding her senses-

_Finally,_ crooned the voice. _The last.. my little morsel.._

She didn't hear it, she realized, too late – didn't hear it, but had the words slip right into her mind without ringing up the ears first. The realization – it left behind a nauseating sense of being cheated, used, _violated – _a sense that grew as the wall_ writhed._

They weren't vines, she realized, feeling a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach. They were – she didn't have a _word_ for them, a twisting, writhing, wormlike mass, bulging with fat cancerous lumps, some opening into more and more of those twisted eyes – some throbbing and squirming like a snake digesting its prey-

Finally, instinct kicked in and she _ran_ – spun around, dashing back into the tunnel where he'd come from. All around her, the walls were alive – like the stone itself was alive around her, a twisted, disgusting, blasphemous life – she could feel it around her, malice and hunger and an alien, ancient, malevolent sentience..

_Free! Free from the chains of the ages_

_Soon, now, we shall feed_

_Disregard the divine sentence_

That voice, that presence! It was the worst – setting her stomach to roiling with bile, a near-physical sense of disgust – making her want to just stop and try and vomit it out of her, feeling the taint of it smothering her mind – but she couldn't stop here, couldn't stop now, she had to get _away_ from the thing whispering in the dark-

_Run, little morsel, run_

_Fear makes the blood taste so sweet_

The walls were closing in on her – no, not closing in, coming alive, the.. _things_ twisting and shifting, groping and feeling blindly – whipping through the air, making her dodge and writhe and push her way past – was she in a cave after all? She felt sheer panic rising in herself at the thought – was it a cave, or was she in the bowels of some _thing_ from her darkest nightmares? Crawling inside it like a bacteria through its veins- she could see light, the cave mouth was so close -

_Yessssss! _The voice bubbled with glee – a heartbeat before she felt it, felt one of the tendrils wrap around her ankle – her startled cry drowned as the air left her lungs, smashed out by her impact on the cavern floor.

_Pop your eyes and drink the juice,_ the thing chattered, its thought-voice oily, disgusting – loathsome and gloating, full of an obscene hunger.

_Suckle on your marrow_

_Savor your screams_

_Feast on your soul!_

The darkness was squirming behind her, the tendril dragging her in – she was screaming now, she realized, screaming her throat hoarse – kicking, twisting, squirming, clawing at the floor, keep it from dragging into a maw of darkness and insanity-

-somehow she managed to yank her leg free, even if it felt like leaving her paw behind – yank free, hobble towards the light of the cavern entrance, darkness rearing up behind her, a furious, inhuman screech of denial rising in the bowels of the mountain-

_No! Mine!_

Fleshy darkness lashed out as she dove out of the cave – the thought of the rock underneath flashed through her mind, but it was better than this, anything was better than this – she was falling, but the _thing_ was coming after her, pouring itself out of the crack in the mountainside like blood and pus from a filthy wound-

_I will rend your flesh, little Templar-_

_**NO!**_

Thunder roared, a deep concussive explosion, like a nova bomb going off next to her – blue-white lightning smote the mountainside like the fist of a vengeful god, smashing stone apart, blasting darkness into dripping chunks – and the wind was screaming against her, tugging on her fur, and suddenly she wasn't falling but _flying_ -

_Who dares?!_

Nightmarish blackness rose, writhing and twisting, a galaxy of blindly staring eyes, madness given unholy life – reaching for her as the wind pulled her away from it-

_**Mine,**_ the storm snarled fiercely around her, _wrath_ and _denial _and _mine-to-guard_ thrumming in the alien patterns around her– power building around her, within the roiling storm, making her twitch and shiver, feeling her fur puff up and try to stand on its end.. and then thunder slashed down at the _thing_ again, claw-like arcs of heavens' wrath cutting and burning obscene flesh – making it reel back with a scream before reaching out – the storm was cradling her, pushing her away, but the darkness was so much deeper, heavier, more _vile_, clawing back, inhuman rage flooding the clouds around her, making her fur itch and try and stand up on its own - Desperately, Krystal reached out with her senses, trying to feel for a safe place, feeling her own will drowning in the battle-

And ran into a familiar, comforting _warmth_ and _safety_ and _affection_, so inviting, so close. She didn't need a second invitation – the storm fading behind her as she closed herself out of the terror, dove into that well of warm emotions, wrapped them around herself like a comforting blanket..

In the waking world, a dozing Krystal stopped shivering and shaking, a soft little coo slipping from her muzzle as she cuddled a little closer against Fox's side in her seat – the male smiling softly down at her, one arm comfortingly wrapped around her shoulders.

* * *

She must've fallen asleep – for the next thing Katt was aware of was Skye under her, tense as a towcable. Every muscle stood in stark relief under his fur, a soft, deep rumble vibrating against her back, those golden eyes bright but unfocused – no, not unfocused, focused on something outside their little box of steel, the tips of sharp teeth just barely showing against dark lips. Blearily, she checked her chrono, realizing hours had passed – and then she felt it, too. The crate around them shifted, vibrations traveling through the metal – followed by a heavy _thump_ that rattled her bones.

"Ssshhhh.." Hardly more than a breath, laying a calming hand on Skye's shoulder as Katt did her best to crawl out of his lap – her other hand reaching for her blaster holster, wincing as pins and needles danced along stiffened muscles..

Another loud _clunk_, shaking their glorified tin can – muffled banging – and then a _hisssss_ of pressurized air, light pouring into their hidey-hole as the lid opened -

And Skye burst out of the crate like the devil's own jack-in-the-box, a bone-chilling snarl on his lips. A loud, startled swear rang out – breaking into a muffled, pained, heavy grunt and a wet, meaty smack.

Katt clambered out of the box after him, feeling slightly miffed about being upstaged. They were in a storage bay of some sort, rows and stacks of supply racks and heavy crates of all shapes and sizes littering the area. The first thing she saw was a big, burly bulldog, pinned to the wall by her blue-furred friend – a dazed look of surprise on the other male's face, Skye's muzzle almost in his face - his snarl baring more teeth than Katt had really thought physically possible. The second-

"Oh no you don't!"

Katt's hand reached down, one smooth motion drawing her blaster, thumbing the safety and fire selector, aiming – a rippling _'crack!'_ ringing out. Off to the side, a brown-scaled lizard type crumpled as the shimmering stun bolt struck his spine with a _shrrrack!_ – a few steps away from the big red alarm button on the wall.

Skye looked up, ears twitching at the gunshot – and the bulldog took his chance to shove at the blue male. Off-balance, the fox grunted, stumbling back – the two were about as tall, but the dog was built like a tank, big and burly and with a nasty grin on his muzzle as he drew a wicked-looking knife.

Katt spun, trying to draw a bead – the two were too close, Skye circling around his opponent, the dog moving in – she couldn't get a clear shot-

The bulldog dashed in, growling, the blade a gleaming flash as he stabbed – Skye rolled to the side, reaching a hand out, groping for a weapon – and the next swing glanced away with a dull _thunk!_. The fox was holding a long length of inch-thick metal pipe in his hands, grabbed from a nearby supply rack. Muscles shifted, the fox testing the heft of it..

_Smack-crack-thunk-crunch!_

The pipe was a dull blur in the air, a quick twirling series of blows – warding off the knife, a quick flourish smashing the other end of the staff into his opponent's knee. Yelping, the dog stumbled – the first end came back, cracking over his wrist. The knife fell from nerveless fingers – and before it hit the floor, the last two blows landed – the way the pipe rose to bury itself in the canine's groin made Katt wince in sympathy for bits she didn't _have_, the bulldog falling forwards with a howl of pain – a howl that cut short before it really begun, Skye's makeshift staff swinging around one last time to deal a heavy blow to the back of his head.

Katt boggled as the bulldog fell to the floor – Skye'd moved so fast, her eyes had hardly kept up with him!

"How did you-" She caught herself, shaking her head. Outworlder, semi-medieval – he probably had to wrestle bears for his dinner where he came from, or something. Something about the way he handled that pipe seemed _very_ familiar, though..

"Might want to tone it down," she admonished, rolling her eyes a little – hips swaying as she stepped up, kneeling beside the bulldog – quick, brisk motions checking his pulse. Alive, mostly unharmed, but out cold – and he'd be waking up feeling it, too. She brought her blaster up, anyhow, and smacked him with a stun bolt for good measure. "We don't want to kill anyone, not if we've got a choice. Find me a rope or cable or something – we'll tie these creeps up, then move on."

Skye rolled his eyes at her commands, but obeyed – reaching behind himself, a _click_ ringing out as the pipe was magnetically locked onto the utility harness she'd gotten him earlier. Katt, meanwhile, focused on emptying the bulldog's pockets, hunting for access cards or PDA files with keycodes on them – and then paused, wincing at an object she found jammed into the belt of his overalls.

"What is that?" A roll of jumper cables smacked to the deck beside her, making her jump. She looked up to see Skye peering down at her, and what she held in her paws.

'That' was an object that much resembled a standard blaster – but instead of a laser focusing lense or plasma aperture, the business end of it ended into a two-tined structure with no recognizable discharge ports, sort of like a weaponized tuning fork.

"Something that tells me we're in the right place," she muttered. "It's a neural lash. Non-lethally attacks your nervous system with an electrical pulse..

A single dark eyebrow rose and Katt caught herself. Right, simple words. Shaking her head, she shifted to the side, gesturing for Skye to tie up the unconscious men.

"It uses lightning to stun you, like a stunner or the stun bolt for a plasma blaster. More reliable than a stunner, less energy-intensive than a stun bolt." she explained. "Thing is, a stun bolt knocks you unconscious. This thing.. it paralyzes you. With pain. So much pain you can't move, can't think, can't breathe – it doesn't kill you, but it'll make you _wish_ it did. A bad hit, or getting hit too many times, can cause neural damage, too – permanent loss of feeling, shaky limbs, your fingers or senses not working right, things like that."

At this point, Skye was giving the gun a look he might've given a venomous spider. Katt honestly couldn't blame him – sometimes, science came up with _vile_ things.

"It's illegal, of course," Katt murmured, yanking the power cell out of the gun, careful to not leave fingerprints on the weapon – the cell itself was standard-sized and would fit her own blaster nicely in a pinch. "Failed design - the people who developed it didn't want to hurt anyone, just create something you could reliably use to disable attackers without damage. Somehow, the blueprints ended up on the black market, and now.. Slavers've been known to use them to control their 'merchandise' – it keeps their prisoners in line, but won't kill them. Loss of profit and all that," she spat.

"And you still want me to go easy on these people?" Skye rumbled – bending down to pick the lizard up on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes – thick muscles rippling as the fox paused to yank out their supply kit from their crate, then bent down to stuff the tied-up thug in its place.

"Tempting as the thought is," Katt retorted dryly, straightening back up with a stretch, "They'll be more use if they're in a state to be questioned later. Come on, I'm gonna see if I can't hack a terminal or something and find the blueprints for this place.. oh, and hey, handsome!"

The male turned around – only to have the spare blaster Katt threw at him bounce off his chest with a grunt, blue-furred hands coming up to catch the thing.

"Next time," Katt teased, "Don't forget your gun in the box."

* * *

"I still can't believe you fell asleep in the shuttle," Fox chuckled softly, shaking his head – a playful gleam in his eyes as he gently ribbed at the vixen walking the gangplank beside him. Around them, the air was thick with the scent of hot metal, machine oil and ozone – the smell of docking hangars everywhere. "I mean, sure, they made us wait for the extra security scans, but.. Did you at least have a good nap? Those seats aren't exactly comfortable."

"Not really," Krystal groaned, delicate muzzle scrunching up as she reached behind herself – back arching in a way that made Fox pause in pure appreciation for a moment. That classy dress of hers did a respectable job of emphasizing the vixen's graceful motions – very much modest, but she still managed to draw his eye.

"Doesn't feel like I got any slept at all," the blue-furred vixen admitted – a faint 'pop!' from her back making Fox wince in sympathy. "I had another dream.."

"Again?" Fox felt his ears perking up, giving her a sharp look. "Another of your visions?"

"I don't think so. Just a bad dream," Krystal smiled, blue-green eyes warm at him. "It's not like my every dream has to have some hidden meaning, Fox. Most of the time they're just that, dreams.. but thank you for caring."

A pleasant warmth filling his chest, Fox returned the smile, guiding her a couple more steps down the gangplank, when a sudden clattering noise made his ears perk up – Fox instinctively glancing over to the docking point beside their shuttle and the ship parked there – and freezing at the sight.

Precious few people flew custom-made Phoenix Foundation fighters - sleek, deadly - perhaps a little more sophisticated, more prone to wear and minor malfunctions than the more rugged Arwing (let alone the patch-it-up-with-curses-and-boot-leather-to-get-back-to-the-dock Wolfen), but more than making up for it in sheer agility and speed of maneuver. It took a skilled pilot and an equally skilled mechanic to keep such a vessel in top condition, and Fox knew one when he saw one. The deadly-sleek red-and-white craft sitting in the next dock over was probably in better shape than if she'd just rolled off the assembly line.

More to the point, precious few people had that combination of technical skill and raw ability to both maintain and handle the fighter. Even fewer people that met those qualifications managed to fill out the lower half of their flight suit quite _that_ well when kneeled on all fours on the flat pane of the fighter's wing, rummaging through the cargo pod, lush sandy-furred tail flicking thoughtfully behind her. Fewer still had to cut openings to the sides of their flight helmet to fit expressive, expansive fennec ears through.

Fox stifled a little groan, glancing between a still blissfully-ignorant Fara Phoenix and Krystal - the blue vixen had stopped beside him, ears swiveling uncertainly at his reactions. Clearly, she was picking up on his emotions.

This.. could get awkward.

* * *

Krystal felt her ears twitching as Fox suddenly stopped beside her – a sudden shock of surprise radiating from the todd better at waking her up than any cup of coffee ever could. Surprise, confusion, recognition – embarrassment? Eyes snapping to the male, Krystal looked up, then followed his eyes to the side.. to see a red-clad vixen stretching her back on the wing of a similarly coloured fighter.

"Fara," Fox murmured beside her, tail flicking.

Krystal blinked, opening hr muzzle – and that was when the other vixen straightened out, turning her head – blue eyes narrowing as she spotted the two of them.

"Well now," she murmured, turning around – hopping down from the fighter's wing with a _clack_ of subtle heels. "There's a face I haven't seen in ages. Aside from the news."

She was short, Krystal realized – nearly a foot shorter than Fox, more 'compactly built' than 'petite' – clad in a red-and-silver, body-fitting flight-suit that brought out the rounded curves of feminine hips. What she lacked in height, she made up in ears – the large, sandy-furred, expressive folds giving her almost a foot more of height when fully perked, a few charms and hoops chiming as they dangled from their lower edges. Her motions had that subtle, confident grace Krystal had long-since learned to connect with fighter pilots – shapely, femininely muscled arms reaching up, revealing a mane of shoulder-length, sandy-blonde hair as she pulled her helmet off, tucking it under her arm.

"Yeah. It's been a while, Fara," Fox murmured, ears folded back in that odd angle – that awkward mix of embarrassment swirling against Krystal's senses. "Uh.. How have you been?"

"Fine, fine," the large-eared vixen – fennec, wasn't the breed called? Krystal wasn't quite sure – murmured, half-dismissively – blue eyes shifting from Fox to her, sweeping her up and down, coupled with a jangling ear-twitch. "Working my tail off, but you know how that goes."

Suddenly, Krystal found herself very much conscious of the dress she'd chosen for the diplomatic talks - certainly, it wasn't what she normally went for, more of a moment's impulse.. but she'd thought it'd fit the occasion. (Certainly, the look on Fox's face when he'd first seen her in it had been very much worth it). Now, though, well-groomed and dressed in pearl-silk and pseudo-golden armour, she felt distinctly.. out of place, facing this plucky, confident fox in her tough flight suit and oil stains on her boots.

"So, Fox," Fara drawled, padding up to them, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your.. friend?"

"Right!" Fox shook his head, clearly willing himself to some sort of focus. "Krystal, this is Fara – Fara Phoenix. Fara, this is Krystal."

"Krystal?" One of those expressive ears rose with the fennec vixen's eyebrow, the sandy-furred woman pausing to pull off her flight suit glove before reaching her paw Krystal's way. "Just Krystal?"

"Just Krystal, I'm afraid," Krystal murmured back, twitching her tail as she eyed that hand, half-hoping Fara'd kept her glove on – she didn't want to be rude, but.. "Krystal of Cerinia, if you want to be formal. I'd rather not, if you won't mind."

Oh well. She'd probably end up doing this at some point, anyhow. Taking a deep breath, Krystal steeled herself, reaching out her paw and shaking Fara's-

_Fatigue, from a day's hard work. Jealousy. Irritation, at both this newcomer and herself for being jealous – Memories._

_A quiet street. Playing with a young green-eyed todd, mimicking engine noises and laser blasts while 'flying' what looked like miniature early Arwing prototypes. An older fennec male, scolding the both of them with a gentle smile. Flash! Impressions of much time spent – hanging out, going to school, all beside a confident, growing young green-eyed fox – a familiar fox.. Flash! Curled up beside him, now broken, comforting him, his agony sharp and raw even without the benefit of Krystal's extra senses – a faint whisper in his throat, 'Mother' – Flash! Eager but unsure, hot murmurs in her ear – faint musk in her nose and warm lips –_

Flushing, Krystal pulled away, mentally and physically – breaking the link, cutting off the stream of half-formed images. Eyes snapping shut, she couldn't help the soft grunt that slipped from her muzzle, separating memories and sensations that were _hers_ from ones that _weren't, _pushing the latter to the side..

"Hey, are you alright?" Surprise and concern in the other vixen's voice – an emotion she could feel mirrored from Fox's direction, Krystal happily taking strength from a familiar touch as the todd moved to support her. "Is there something-"

"No, I'm alright," Krystal assured, opening her eyes, shaking her head – feeling her ears twitch, sternly trying to tell her senses that no, they just hadn't shrunk about six sizes. "I'm sorry," she murmured, feeling embarrassed – not least from the unwilling breach of privacy. _Well now,_ she thought dryly, _That explains things. _For a moment, she could see _herself_ from Fara's point of view – this tall, exotic, oddly colored vixen, pretty and dolled-up, Fox hovering protectively beside her, all graceful and elegant and everything the fennec herself was not, her scent drifting in the air - knowing that if things had gone differently, it might've been _her_ -"I just.. I just don't like to touch people I don't know."

"Oh!" Fox's ears twitched, Krystal feeling his senses clicking as things fell in place. "Fara, Krystal's a.. I know this is going to sound weird, but.. she's a telepath. The closer she is to people, the more strongly she picks up on things – especially if she touches someone-"

"Telepath?" Surprise, disbelief – mortification, a jangle of hoops as big expressive ears popped up, then folded back, blue eyes surprised and curious. "So.." My, those ears went red when she began to blush. "So, uh, when you shook my hand, you.. got..?"

"I saw nothing either of you need to be ashamed of," Krystal assured her, blushing just as hard, idly crossing her arms under her chest. "'Empath' is really closer – normally I only get emotions, but it's stronger when I touch someone.. and you were, ah, a little upset and thinking of Fox, and.."

"Oh, stars." Fara closed her eyes, ears jangling again as they folded shifted - lifting her paw to rub over her eyes. "This was _not_ what I signed up f-"

"Fara!"

A sandy-furred figure appeared from between the docking points, smiling as he padded towards them – tall, for a fennec, anyhow, dressed in a neat if a little scuffed suit under a lab coat of some sort, the kind with reinforced pads on his knees and elbows, mane pulled into a short ponytail. A familiar figure, in fact – even if Krystal hadn't met him before, she recognized the face from the surge of Fara's memories she'd just been subjected to – though the male walking up to them had more venerable silver-gray sprinkled over his muzzle and mane than those memories had..

"There you are," he smiled. "I had an idea for the secondary drive plasma distributor – Oh!" Blue eyes had found the two of them, flicking over Fox. "I know you, don't I?"

"You do," Fox smiled, stepping up and reaching out to shake the elder male's hand. "It's Fox – Fox McCloud. It's been a while, Mr. Phoenix, sir."

"Fox?" Blue eyes widened – followed, moments later, by the fennec's smile. "My stars, I hardly recognized you. Look at you! I think the last time we really spoke was me telling you to bring my Fara back before curfew, mmn? Where does the time go?"

Fox chuckled softly, shaking his head – behind the fennec's back, Fara gave a roll of her eyes. Despite the gesture, Krystal could feel the affection between the two of them – it felt.. pleasant, on her senses. Like standing in front of the fireplace after a long day out in the cold – she found herself smiling softly at the sensation.

"And you.." Blue eyes shifted over to Krystal – the vixen instinctively straightening up a little. The elder todd had a little warm gleam in his eyes as they swept her up and down once, before focusing on her face. "I might be getting on with the years, but I'd like to think I'd recognize a young lady like you if I'd met you before." A little playful wink, a paw extended her way. "I don't think we've been introduced. Tauv Phoenix.. Fara's father. Who might you be?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phoenix," Krystal smiled, tail flicking gently – a little part of her resigned to having a headache by the end of the day as she reached her paw back. Beside them, Fara's ears popped up, eyes widening - "My name is Krystal."

Their hands met, Krystal mentally bracing herself.

Tauv was.. Calm. Warm. The surge of unpleasant motion she' gotten from Fara was absent – instead, what she got was warm curiosity, a little bit of appreciation (A little part of Krystal blushed, realizing a bit of instinct had just classified her as 'attractive, but way out of my age range') and.. numbers. The todd's mind was like a calculator – even when focused on something else, equations and graphs and bits of design whirled through the background, clicking together, forming into something more than the sum of its parts, the most complex jigsaw puzzle she could image, factors of _speed_ and _lift_ and _power_ and _thrust_ working in harmony - and – memories.

_Watching two fox cubs, one fennec and one red fox, at play while working on a design with the young todd's father. Flash! An adorable, big-eyed fennec kit, sitting in his lap while he pointed out things on the blueprint, comparing them to the parts of the half-disassembled fighter sitting in the hangar before them. Pausing to teach her how to take a spare component apart, then put it back together. Flash! The same kit, now a little older, so proud of herself, presenting him with a freshly-painted miniature fighter – modified to match the newest blueprint. Flash! "One day, Daddy, you'll build the best ship in the galaxy.. and I'll be testing it for you.."_

Gently, Krystal willed the link shut, squeezing his hand – he had a strong grip, the deft hands of a man who worked with them for a living – before pulling away. And for a moment – Fara might've been jealous of her because of Fox, but for just a little bit.. Krystal envied Fara for having a father like Tauv.

"Pleasure to meet you, indeed, Mr. Phoenix," Krystal smiled, mentally focusing to ignore the disorientation from the second mental contact in almost as many minutes. "Will you be taking part in the talks, as well?"

"Oh, yes!" Tauv's eyes brightened, ears shifting – she could almost feel his brain kicking into high gear from where she was standing. "General Pepper specifically asked for a group from Phoenix Corporation – how could I refuse? Getting a first-hand look at Xechek technology, their designs – have you seen their ships?"

"Here we go again," Fara murmured, rolling her eyes a second time. "I told Father that we could do without him, but you know him – I keep having to physically pull him out of the guts of whatever prototypes the R&D boys and girls happen to be working on at the time, so.."

"You're in the peace talks, too?" Fox blinked, ears popping up. "How does that work out? No offense, Fara."

"Beats me, and none taken." The fennec shrugged, crossing flightsuit-clad arms over her chest. "Suppose it's the worker and warrior caste thing Pepper mentioned. You're mercenaries, so that fits the 'warrior' part.. and Dad's the biggest brain in the cluster, when it comes to ship design at least.."

"The Xechek 'worker' caste aren't just simple laborers," Krystal put in with a smile, tail flicking softly. "They're their scientists, engineers and artists, as well – their brightest minds. If they wanted a representative, it'd make sense for the General to call for you, Mr. Phoenix."

"My. An _educated_ young lady, as well?" Tauv's ears popped up, an impressed look in his eyes – she could feel his pleasure at being complimented, too. "Just where _did_ Fox find you?"

Krystal chuckled warmly, wagging her tail, opening her muzzle-

"Mr. Phoenix!"

A new voice – a female voice, and the clack-clack-clack of boot-heels. A new face popped up from the direction the fennec male had come from – a female spaniel dressed in a flight suit just like Fara's, a little bit of roundness to her limbs not hindering her motions, a little red bow over the base of one ear gleaming among soft-looking, strawberry-blonde fur.

"A call for you in your quarters, Mr. Phoenix – wait, Fox?"

"Hello, Fay," Fox called back, a dry smile on his muzzle. "It's like the class reunion all over again, isn't it? Katt and Miyu aren't going to pop up from the woodworks too, are they?"

"Miu-Miu's actually hip-deep up her fighter right about now," Fay deadpanned, cocking a widely curved hip, thumb rising to point over her shoulder towards the other end of the hangar. "Her port stabilizer gave out, again," she clarified at the matched querying look she got from both Phoenixes. "Something about losing sync with her G-diffuser if she pushes it past eighty percent..?"

"I'll have to take a look, myself," Tauv murmured, ears shifting. "In the meanwhile, tell her to go easy on the poor thing. I pay you to test them, yes, but there -is- such a thing as too much of a good thing.."

"Me, Fay and Miyu work as test pilots for Phoenix Foundation designs, these days," Fara explained. "Don't have a fancy name yet, but I suppose you could call us a team. Katt's sort of an honorary member, for the record – she pitches in when her business is quiet."

"She's been too quiet for a while now, if you ask me," Fay murmured, shaking her head. "Not like her to be low profile for so long.. I'm kinda worried. Not that it matters now!" Long, floppy spaniel ears shifted among her hair. "Like I said, Mr. Phoenix, there's a call for you – if you'll follow me..?"

"I'd best get along, too," Fara murmured, shaking her head, turning to follow the two – then pausing, glancing over her shoulder at the Fox and Krystal.

"Fox.. it was nice to see you again. And.. Krystal.. it was good to meet you, too. We'll catch up later, alright?"

"I'll be looking forwards to it," Krystal smiled back – watching with Fox as the three of them disappeared out of sight, before finally turning to him.

"So, uhh.." Fox's ears were folding back, a little embarrassed flush in them – she didn't need to be an empath to know what he was thinking, now. "I never did tell you about Fara, did I..?"

"No. No, you didn't," Krystal sweetly replied. "But I'm sure we'll have all the time to- reminisce, later.."

Oh, of course she wasn't angry with him. Not really.

It _was_ amusing to see Fox twitch, though!


End file.
